


Identity Crisis

by VelkynKarma



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Language, References to Character Death, Season 1, spoilers (up to Disordered)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the disastrous training exercise in Failsafe, the Team is sent on an urgent covert mission to uncover the details on a deadly anti-League weapon, with Robin assigned as lead. When the mission goes south and the mystery weapon is turned on his team, Robin is forced to find a solution that allows them to escape in one piece—while plagued with doubts in his leadership abilities that the exercise brought to light. Friendship only, no pairings. For Black Friar's contest!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Black Friar’s fanfiction contest. Takes place after "Failsafe" and "Disordered," but before Halloween and the events of "Secrets." Also written because, while I liked that "Disordered" followed up the traumatizing events of "Failsafe" with some therapy sessions, we never actually see this affect any of the Team in their missions afterwards. Robin briefly seems uncomfortable with taking leadership in "Image," but that’s it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, Young Justice or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs to DC, Warner Brothers, and associated parties.

A chilling scream rent the air, followed by the pounding of footsteps in the darkness. The helpless couple fled, only to find themselves in a dead end. They turned just in time to see the killer stalking towards them, bloodied knife raised, unperturbed by the couples’ pleading. The wet _shunk_ of the knife slicing home, and the spatter of blood on the walls, silenced their cries.  
  
“The hell didn’t they fight back?” Connor asked, scowling at the television screen so hard it would have melted if he’d had heat vision.  
  
“It’s a horror movie, Supey,” Wally said, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Not fighting back is what they _do._ ”  
  
“But this murderer doesn’t even know what he’s doing,” Connor argued, still glaring at the screen, where the killer in question was stepping over the bodies of his latest victims. “I mean, Black Canary showed us a grip that would have disarmed him in five seconds or less, even without powers.”  
  
“Says the invulnerable guy who couldn’t get stabbed even if he wanted to,” Artemis said dryly. The clone still looked ready to argue, so she held up a hand and added, “Look, I agree with you, it’s stupid that they just run around and scream a lot and don’t take action, but that’s just what these movies are like. Besides, we’re used to fighting creepy and crazy things—it doesn’t mean everyday people are.”  
  
“It’s still stupid,” Connor muttered.  
  
Robin snorted in amusement, and reveled a second later in the fact that he actually _could_. A week after the disastrous—heavy on the _dis_ —mental training exercise and subsequent awful therapy sessions, and he was finally starting to feel like himself again. The past week had been pretty rough, even after his talk with Black Canary; the training exercise had taken so much out of him, and he knew it had done the same for his friends as well.  
  
Even their mentors had been affected. Most of the League members that had been on-hand for the exercise had been shocked and alarmed at how poorly it had gone. And while Dick didn’t know how it had been handled with his friends, he knew Bruce had been practically hovering at home to ensure he was alright. For all Batman’s calm exterior during the training—necessary, to keep everyone else calm—he had been just as shocked as the others when the cowl came off. The past week he had monitored Dick to the point when it was driving the teenager crazy, in part because he seemed to be waiting for Dick to want to explain _just_ what went on in the exercise beyond the basic debrief.  
  
And Dick wasn’t ready to share that, not yet. He’d told Black Canary she couldn’t share anything in his therapy session with Batman, and he’d meant it. He didn’t want Batman to know how badly he’d messed up, or how he was desperately afraid of becoming _that thing_ , and there was no way he could explain that easily. But it meant he was still holding all that in, and while Bruce wasn’t what you’d call an expert when it came to emotions, he _was_ smart enough to know something was still bothering Robin, and stubborn enough to not let up.  
  
That was why Dick had decided he needed to get out of the mansion, and suggested a horror movie marathon a few days before Halloween itself. Kaldur had returned to Atlantis after the training incident, and M’gann was away for a bit with J’onn for special training to get help with her powers. But Wally, Connor and Artemis had agreed, probably just as desperate for that degree of normalcy and a chance to get away as he was.  
  
Of course—as Connor pointed out—most of the ‘horror’ elements of the horror movies were sort of negated when you’d actually fought psychopaths and demons, and had aliens as close friends. After that, it was just sort of silly to watch these people screw up in new and increasingly spectacular ways, without an ounce of common sense. The marathon had long since devolved into analyzing all those stupid things and pointing them out with snickers of exasperation, but Dick would take it anyway.  
  
He was just about to add his own observation to the rest of them, when a sharp beeping noise cut the air, and the prowling serial killer onscreen disappeared. A live feed from Batman replaced it moments later, and the hero said sharply, “Robin, Kid Flash, Artemis, and Superboy. Suit up and be prepared for orders in fifteen. Stealth forms, polar and night. Batman out.”  
  
The feed winked out, replaced by static; the movie did not return. The four of them exchanged glances, before Wally said with a shrug, “Spoiler alert: they were probably all gonna die anyway.” He shoveled handfuls of popcorn into his mouth at rapid speed to finish off the bowl as the other three headed off to retrieve their costumes.  
  
Fifteen minutes later on the dot, the four of them were standing in the main hall of the Cave, staring up at the holographic screen of Batman. Robin tried to stay composed outwardly, and was fairly sure he managed it. The others hid their unease fairly well, but probably not well enough for Batman to miss it. Other than Superboy during his impromptu mission with the Forever People, none of them had actually been out on a team mission since the exercise, and he was sure its monumental failure was still on all their minds.  
  
If Batman did notice—and Robin was almost certain he did—he didn’t say anything, for which Dick was grateful. “We intercepted a transmission from an unknown party, speaking with an unknown buyer, approximately twelve hours ago,” he began, launching immediately into the mission briefing. “This unknown party was offering a chance to see, and possibly purchase, an ‘anti-League weapon.’ “  
  
“What kind of weapon?” Robin asked immediately, frowning.  
  
“The nature of the weapon is unclear,” Batman said. “As is the identity of the buyer or the seller. The transmission was heavily and skillfully encrypted. We were, however, able to trace the location of the transmission to a facility in northern Russia. The facility his extremely isolated and will be difficult to reach undetected without stealth.”  
  
“And why doesn’t the League just blast in if we know where these guys are at?” Artemis asked skeptically. Beside her, Connor nodded in agreement.  
  
“We’ve already looked into the possibility,” Batman said curtly. “We have reason to believe the seller is keeping current tabs on the activities of all Leaguers, and is monitoring our presence.”  
  
“So if any of you were to suddenly disappear from your usual haunts, these guys with the anti-League weapon might get nervous and scatter,” Robin surmised. “Then who knows when you’d catch word of them again...”  
  
Batman nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “Until we understand the nature of this ‘anti-League weapon,’ it is too dangerous a threat to leave unattended and ignored. While we maintain an active presence in our respective locations to keep the seller from growing suspicious, you four will head to the coordinates I’m transmitting and gather intel on this weapon.  
  
“This is a _covert_ mission only,” he added, stressing the word insistently. “Any weapon capable of damaging the League will be capable of harming you as well. _Do not_ make your presence known and do not engage. If there are problems, you will _immediately_ retreat, regardless of whether or not you have gained any substantial intelligence. Are we clear?”  
  
“As crystal,” Kid Flash muttered, and the others nodded, looking a little annoyed with the lecture. Robin was too, but had to admit, so far his team had done a spectacular job at misinterpreting ‘covert.’ Maybe Batman had a right to lecture.  
  
“Good,” Batman said, after subjecting each of them to the power of the bat-glare. “The bio-ship is still active. I ensured that Miss Martian enabled it for alternate pilots before her training began. Robin, you will be in charge of piloting the ship. You will also take the role of team leader for the duration of this mission.”  
  
Robin felt a spike of alarm at the order, and hastily fought it down. “Me? Lead? But Aqualad—”  
  
“Is currently in Atlantis,” Batman interrupted, “and will not be able to return in time. This is a time-sensitive mission. The longer we wait, the longer this weapon has a chance to become active.” His eyes narrowed at Robin, and although he said nothing further out loud, Dick had worked with Batman long enough to understand the meaning behind that particular look. _Is everything alright?_  
  
Robin fought back a grimace. Bruce had known ever since the Santa Prisca mission how badly Dick wanted to lead this team. And even though Dick had backed down and admitted Kaldur was better in the place of leadership for now, both knew that Dick fully intended to lead the team one day. Now he’d made it blindingly obvious—to Bruce, if no one else—that he didn’t want that role any longer. Bruce was no idiot—he’d know the only thing that changed was the exercise. He’d want to know what happened.  
  
_I sent all my friends to their deaths, the first time I took charge, is what happened,_ Dick thought to himself harshly. _I’m not fit to lead anyone. I can’t do it. I can’t be_ him _. I just can’t._  
  
But now wasn’t the time or the place for that discussion. If Bruce—if _Batman_ —sensed even a hint of weakness, he’d pull him off the mission and become even more insistent on uncovering what was bothering Dick so badly. And Dick couldn’t deal with that, not yet. Nor would he let his friends go on a potentially dangerous mission without his help, especially not when ‘covert’ was so perfectly suited to his skill-set.  
  
So he merely said, “Oh. Right. Okay then. I guess if Aqualad can’t make it...” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal.  
  
Batman didn’t seem to buy it completely—but apparently it was enough to at least keep him from being pulled off mission. His narrowed eyes promised that they’d be discussing this later— _joy_ —but a moment later he turned to the rest of the team and ordered, “You leave immediately. Coordinates have been uploaded. Maintain radio silence to avoid intercepted transmissions—this seller clearly has some skill with technology. Take absolutely no unnecessary risks.” He gave them one last final glare, and then the holographic screen vanished, leaving them alone with their mission.  
  
“Well, he said immediately,” Kid Flash said, glancing around at the others. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”  
  
Maybe it was just Robin, but somehow it felt like KF’s usual enthusiasm was missing. Or maybe, for once, it was his own that had been lost. 

* * *

  
Several hours of uneventful flight time later, they finally arrived at their destination.  
  
As Batman had said, the coordinates they were given were in the middle of an isolated, relatively open area in northern Russia. Even several miles out, they could see that there was some sort of complex in the distance, but virtually no decent cover to approach from. There was also, Artemis pointed out, a fairly decent security system and tall fence circling the facility at quite a wide circumference, with active heat and motion sensors that would almost certainly catch the bioship. There were also strange pylons every one hundred feet or so on the circumference of the fencing, and without being able to identify their purpose, Robin thought it best to steer clear of them.  
  
After some consideration, Robin piloted the bioship to a cluster of trees a short distance from the security system and secluded it there. Without M’gann, camouflage mode was impossible, requiring more mundane methods of hiding. As soon as they exited, its bright red hull would stand out against the snowy landscape and dark, ice-dusted trees. This was just about the only cover they had to successfully hide the ship in, which meant they would be making the rest of the covert journey in on foot.  
  
Robin glanced around at his team mates, dressed in polar stealth against the icy backdrop, and barely suppressed a shudder. This was how it had all begun in the exercise, too. He hoped _this_ mission went better than that one. Based on everyone else’s expressions, they were thinking the same thing.  
  
“Let’s go,” Robin ordered curtly, after a deep breath to gather himself. “No M’gann, so no mental uplink. Stick close enough to use hand signals or stay within range of the short-distance communicators. They won’t be able to pick up a signal with these, but as a trade off we won’t get much distance out of them.”  
  
The others nodded, and he slunk forward to examine the first security system while the others kept watch. The sensors and electrical fences were easy enough to disable, and he patched them in under thirty seconds, looping the feeds to prevent any unwanted feedback to their opponents. The strange pylons appeared to be receivers of some sort from the complex, but did not appear to be a current threat, so they decided to ignore them for now until they could get more intel. Superboy tore a hole in the three layers of fencing as easily as if he were ripping open a bag of chips, and the four of them slipped through into enemy territory with ease, blending into the ice and snow.  
  
The facility’s grounds were freezing, and there was already an ankle-deep layer of snow; not surprising, considering it was only a few days until November. It made travel uncomfortable, chilly and wet, but thankfully Robin’s polar gear was equipped for it. He kept an eye on Artemis as well, as the only other non-powered human, but she seemed to be doing fine despite the cold temperatures—she had even thought ahead, and was wiping out their footprints as they traveled, erasing their tracks. Kid Flash seemed fine as well—his high speeds left him more used to extreme temperatures due to wind chills, and his suit was insulated. And Superboy, with his invulnerability, never even seemed to feel the cold. So far, so good; at least the temperature wouldn’t do them in.  
  
The facility, when they got closer, was more than a little unusual. Robin had expected the typical cluster of buildings, warehouses, and garages, but was surprised to note that there was only one single, large building, and it appeared to be perfectly circular.  
  
“It’s like a giant donut,” Kid Flash muttered. “Or a ring. I wonder why?”   
“Who cares?” Artemis hissed back under her breath. “We don’t care about the architecture, we care about the weapon.”  
  
“How do you know that the ring isn’t part of the weapon?”  
  
“It’d be a pretty terrible weapon if it was just stuck here.”  
  
“Not if it was some kind of missile or something,” Kid Flash argued. “What if this is some kind of base for that? They might have something to, I don’t know, blow the Watchtower out of the sky, or destroy the HQ in DC, or something.”  
  
“We can’t rule out the possibility,” Robin murmured, “But I doubt they know about the Watchtower. I mean, we didn’t even know about the Watchtower, and how long have we worked with Batman and Flash?”  
  
“Point,” Kid Flash conceded. “Could still be missiles for other things, though. This isolated place? there’d be no warning before they set’em off.”  
  
“You can argue about what it is all day,” Superboy growled impatiently, “Or we can get in there and actually do the mission and find out. But I’m not interested in sitting here while you guys debate ‘maybes.’ “  
  
“Agreed,” Robin said. “Let’s get in first. Artemis, I’m getting readings on cameras _there_ and _there_.” He pointed at the closest wall, still some distance away. “Can you knock them out? I can hack us through their doors once we’re in the clear visually.”  
  
“I see them,” Artemis acknowledged, after squinting through her goggles for a moment. She carefully selected a pair of arrows crafted to interfere with electronics, drew her bow, and took aim. There was a soft, barely-discernible _twang_ as the arrows left the bow, and bare seconds later the arrows were planted firmly into the walls next to either camera. “There. Should be on a continuous loop. Go!”  
  
They needed no further encouragement. Kid Flash zipped ahead, moving so fast he darted easily over the snow, and signaled when there was no sign of guards and it was safe to follow. Robin and Superboy came after next, with Artemis bringing up the rear, still dusting away their footprints to prevent any indication that they were there.  
  
The door was their first major hurdle. There was a high-tech security pad with a locked cover to prevent the elements from damaging it, but even after Superboy pried the cover off for him, Robin found the security was still surprisingly good. After the pathetic motion and heat sensors back at the fence, he’d been expecting less than perfect security, but he was forced to re-evaluate his opinion on the matter as he huddled over his hologram glove, cape tucked around him to hold off the cold.  
  
“What’s the holdup?” Kid Flash hissed. Robin glanced up briefly, and found the other three in a semi-circle around him defensively, keeping an eye out for guards while he worked. Superboy had even, with surprising forethought for him, placed himself in front of the chilly wind to act as a partial shield for Robin while he worked.  
  
“Somebody that works here is good,” Robin muttered back, typing furiously on his hologram glove. “Maybe not so much at the physical security, but they’ve got the tech down pretty good.” Seconds later the door clicked, and with a smirk, Robin added, “Just not as good as _me._ ”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whelmed, aster, whatever,” Kid Flash muttered back. “We good?”  
  
Superboy pressed an ear to the door, and nodded a moment later. “Think so. Don’t hear anything.”  
  
“KF, you take a look first,” Robin ordered. “If there’s some sort of trap, you should be able to spot it without them spotting you.”  
  
Kid Flash nodded, eased open the doorway, and darted in. He was out again in less than ten seconds, jerking his thumb at the door. “It’s clear, but we gotta move fast. I think there’s a patrol coming through.”  
  
The team didn’t need to be told twice. They ducked through the door with Artemis bringing up the rear, although she no longer needed to bother with obliterating their footsteps. This close to the base, the outer walls were surrounded by hard-packed snow from so many of the building’s inhabitants walking on it. Superboy snapped the door shut quickly behind them, and the four darted behind a stack of crates in one corner.  
  
They were just in time. As the end of Artemis’ ponytail disappeared, a pair of guards appeared, striding briskly through the room they were currently in towards the other side. Robin’s eyes narrowed as he observed them carefully. They were dressed in combat gear that looked like a uniform, but Robin didn’t recognize the insignia or colors, so probably not military. They were armed, but their guns remained holstered, and while the men clearly knew how to use them they looked relaxed. They weren’t expecting trouble, that much was clear. It might work in their favor, and if they were really lucky, their overconfidence could be exploited. Robin filed it away for later.  
  
“The hell is this place?” Artemis muttered. “Storage?”  
  
Robin blinked, and glanced around the room they were currently in. It was fairly large, with a door at either end leading farther into the complex itself, and the door to the outside behind them. There were crates, boxes, and barrels stacked everywhere, and Robin examined the stack they were hiding behind curiously.  
  
“It’s _food_ ,” Kid Flash said first, eyes going wide. “Holy crap! We’ve hit the motherlode!”  
  
“Keep it down, Kid Glutton!” Artemis snapped at him. “We’re not here for your never-ending stomach, we’re here for the weapon!”  
  
“It’s not what we’re looking for,” Robin agreed, “But it does tell us a thing or two about this place. Look at all this food...we’re in the middle of nowhere, they’d need to cart it in to support all the staff here for whatever it is they’re doing. Even if they’re planning ahead for storms cutting off their supply lines, this is still a lot of rations. They’ve got to have a lot of people here for whatever this weapon is.”  
  
“They’ve got to have other storage units for supplies,” Superboy said after a moment. “This is just food and water in here.” Robin didn’t doubt him. Even with only half the powers of Superman, Conner’s vision was still far superior to an ordinary human. He’d probably read all the signs on the boxes already.  
  
“If they do, they might have a place for this weapon,” Kid Flash said, still staring a little longingly at some of the crates of rations. “We should take a look...see if we can scope it out.”  
  
Somehow, Robin didn’t think it would be _quite_ that easy. Even not expecting trouble, he doubted these people would leave something as game changing as a League-defeating weapon laying around unguarded in a storage unit. But they wouldn’t get any answers hiding behind a crate of dried fruit, so he nodded. “Keep an eye out for anything we can use, and remember, avoid patrols. Switch to night stealth. We can’t afford to be detected.”  
  
The others nodded, and swapped their uniform colors from polar whites and blues to dark blacks and grays with a light touch to the chest. The blindingly obvious colors faded away as his companions melded more appropriately into the shadow, and Robin inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. Nobody dead—nothing like the exercise or the way it went last time. No extreme decisions to make yet. Easy. He could do this. They all could.  
  
They slipped through the halls of the facility, keeping a careful eye out for cameras. Artemis was able to disable these individually as they moved with carefully fired arrows until Robin was able to find a basic security terminal two rooms over. When he plugged in he found that once again, their digital security was surprisingly top notch, but he was still able to break into their systems and set all cameras to a blank loop and deactivate motion and heat sensors, giving them easier movement.  
  
After that, with more freedom to explore, they started seriously searching for this mysterious weapon, and learning more about the facility they were in. A basic hacked floor plan revealed that, as Kid Flash had pointed out, the building really was a giant three-story donut—there was a large open-air location in the very center of the facility, like a massive courtyard. The facility circled it completely, and as far as Robin could tell, it was used as a hub for air transport. He spotted a helipad in the center, and the courtyard was littered with large, snow-covered metal transport containers that might have been filled with supplies or parts. Due to the cold weather, outdoors activity appeared to have ground to a halt for the moment, and the team agreed that it was unlikely anything of value or interest would be stored out there for them to find.  
  
The real gems, Robin knew, would likely be stored in the facility itself. They needed to find out everything they could about this place—but unfortunately, despite their efforts, it wasn’t yielding any secrets. So far, Robin hadn’t seen any evidence to tie this place to any of their usual suspects, and had no idea who was in command of this facility or who they might be working for. That was worrying—it either meant there was a new player, one with a potentially damaging weapon that could seriously hurt the League, or it was an older suspect that had gotten even craftier at covering up their tracks. Neither option was a good possibility, and Robin felt the weight of urgency on his shoulders the longer the mission went on without any real results. The only thing he was able to conclude with certainty was that whoever was involved, they had a _lot_ of manpower.  
  
They combed through the rooms one by one, avoiding guards when they could, sometimes being forced to wait ten to fifteen minutes at a time for patrols to pass or finish chatting. There really were a lot of people here; it was difficult to make any progress while still remaining unseen, and Robin could tell it was making his friends edgy. Kid Flash in particular, never known for his patience, was starting to look awful twitchy after listening to twenty minutes of inane conversation between a quartet of guards.  
  
“This is getting us nowhere,” Superboy finally growled—under his breath, thankfully, so that no one would be able to pinpoint them hiding beneath a set of steps. “Don’t we have any idea of where to look?”  
  
Robin shook his head. He wanted to bring up the floor plan again, but was afraid the glow would alert the guards nearby. He’d long since memorized it anyway, though, and instead settled for muttering under his breath, “We just have a basic blueprint of how the place is built, not how it’s organized. It’s huge, and there are three floors altogether; there’s a lot of square footage to search. If we had some idea of what we were looking for we could maybe still narrow it down with guesswork, but...” He shrugged.  
  
Superboy grit his teeth, looking frustrated. Kid Flash did no look particularly happy either, and muttered, “Then we’re back to square one anyway. What could these guys possibly be hiding here? My missile idea is out. It doesn’t look like they’ve got the tech for it out there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the transport hub outdoors. “They’ve got a lot of people here, though. An army? With, I don’t know, kryptonite rounds or something?”  
  
“Kind of specific for a _League_ defeating weapon, don’t you think?” Artemis said under her breath. “It’d only take out two people at the most.” She nodded towards Superboy, who scowled.  
  
“Have you seen the studies on what that stuff does in terms of long-term radiation damage to humans?” Kid Flash shot back—softly, thankfully. “I mean, it’s not instant like it would be for the Supers, but it’s still pretty nasty.”  
  
“If it was Kryptonite, you’ d think we’d see LexCorp all over this,” Robin countered. “I haven’t seen a hint of anything related to him yet. You know he’d pay through the nose for that stuff.”  
  
“Maybe it’s more than that,” Superboy added. “Maybe they’re stockpiling individual weapons based on the League’s weaknesses.”  
  
Artemis still looked skeptical. “Then why make it sound like one super-weapon? Wouldn't they call it an anti-League arsenal, then?”  
  
“We have no way to know,” Robin said. “We need to find a terminal or something. Better than that basic security terminal. Something with real data on it I can hack. Whoever’s here is good, _really_ good, but if I can get deeper into their systems, find something more substantial than security—”  
  
There was a sudden, loud ringing chime, and for one heart-stopping moment Robin thought they’d been caught somehow. But a moment later the crackle of speakers sounded, and Robin realized the chime came as a prelude to someone speaking over an intercom system. Artemis caught his eye and jerked her head up in one corner of the room they were hiding in, towards a speaker. Robin nodded, and noted with interest that the guards they had been hiding from had gone silent and were waiting expectantly.  
  
“Everyone is to report to their testing positions immediately,” the voice on the intercom—sharp and agitated-sounding—said quickly. “Testing will begin in exactly ten minutes. Those out of place at that time will be _severely_ disciplined.” There was another crackle of static, and the intercom went silent.  
  
The team glanced at each other in surprise, and Kid Flash mouthed, Testing?  
  
Robin shrugged, then motioned for silence. The guards, grumbling, where beginning to speak, even as they finally began to head away from the Team’s hiding place. “Testing? Again? That’s the third damn time today!”  
  
“Word’s out that the boss’ contract finally made an offer on this thing,” another guard volunteered.  “To some big-shot injustice guy or something. He probably wants to make sure it’s all in good working condition or whatever before they come to check it out.”  
  
“Figure that makes sense,” a third agreed after a moment. “The kind of guy you’d sell this tech to, you don’t want to piss him off with a crappy product.” He drew a finger across his throat and made a gagging noise.  
  
“Whatever,” the first muttered. “Still getting tired of doing all this. What are we even needed for, anyway? It’s only the techs that gotta be in place.”  
  
“Just think of it like a dress rehearsal or something,” the second offered.  
  
“What, you into theater now, too?” the first asked with a snicker.  
  
The guards trooped off down the hall, ribbing their coworker mercilessly, and Robin glanced back at his team mates. “That was helpfully informative,” Kid Flash said dryly. “I wonder if they train these people to spout off bits and pieces the good guys to conveniently pick up on?”  
  
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Robin said firmly. “Whatever they’re testing is what we’re after, and if they’re trying to put on a good show for their buyer, I say we learn a little from it, too. Let’s find out where everyone’s heading and follow them.”  
  
As it turned out, this was easier said than done. There were only so many places to hide in the facility, and the intercom announcement seemed to have done the equivalent of stirring up an anthill. Within a few minutes the hallways were full of activity as guards and what Robin assumed where technical staff hurried quickly through them, on their way to whatever posts had been assigned. It was rough going to dart between storage units, under stairs, and into empty rooms without being seen, and more than once they barely made it before another unwanted person came sweeping around a corner or briskly walking out of a room ahead. Robin even considered the benefits of vanishing into the air ducts, assuming they could find a decent network of them, but rapidly decided against it. Contrary to popular belief, they weren’t much use for stealth if you weren’t particularly practiced at traversing them, as they carried noises for long distances and were easy to bang around in. He could maybe manage it, but he doubted the others could, especially Superboy with all his bulk.  
  
It was nearly ten minutes before the hustle in the facility calmed down. For a moment Robin was hopeful that this would work in their favor and make travel easier. Then he realized just what the guards’ stations were, since they were not, by the admission of one such man, helping with the weapon at all. They were set near any form of exit or escape, as though to prepare for a full lockdown. Although the guards looked bored, the hands on their weapons suggested they were ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and there were a lot of firearms for so tight a space indoors.  
  
It made Robin uneasy. Batman had taught him to always have an exit strategy, no matter how confident you were in your success, and he had been particularly insistent on retreating in this mission if necessary. Robin figured they might be able to bull rush their way out, with Kid Flash’s speed and Superboy’s defense, but even then it would be dangerous.  
  
“We’re gonna need a new plan,” Artemis murmured next to him. The four of them were huddled in the darkness of a stairwell, watching no less than five guards surrounding one of the exits into the white, blank expanse of snow outside the facility. “We can’t move around like this, and they’re going to start testing this thing soon. If we can’t figure out what it is...”  
  
Robin nodded. Their intel gathering was already not as fruitful as he’d hoped, and it was quickly becoming less likely they would be able to obtain this information without incident. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest a distraction strategy—use Superboy and Kid Flash to draw the attention of the guards, while he snuck around and stole the intel while eyes were averted. But almost immediately the memory of Superboy leaping onto the massive alien mothership of the imaginary attack on earth came to mind—the view as he disappeared into the dark, the roar of anger as he challenged the enemy, the mental snap in his head as Superboy died—slammed home, and he barely fought back a gag of disgust at himself.  
  
No. That wasn’t him, and he wouldn’t do that. The situation wasn’t going in their favor, but it wasn’t that desperate, not yet.  
  
He racked his brain for another solution, but he had barely started considering ideas when an odd hum seemed to fill the air. For a moment it seemed to almost reverberate around him, so heavy and loud he could feel it in his very chest; then it quieted, and the odd feeling receded to nothing. When he listened, Robin found he could still hear the hum vaguely in the background, like white noise. But it was easy to ignore, and he found himself forgetting about it easily.  
  
“Huh,” he muttered. “I’m guessing _that_ is our mystery anti-League weapon warming up.”  Whatever it might be, anyway. Whatever had just happened, it still gave him very little go on, other than it probably wasn’t intended to annoy you to death with sound.  
  
He glanced at the others, curious if they had any input on the matter. Artemis met his eyes and shrugged, apparently just as unclear on what the mystery weapon’s purpose was as he. Kid Flash was frowning though, looking uneasy, and next to him—  
  
“SB,” Robin said, with an edge of puzzlement to his whisper, “Are you _shivering?_ ”  
  
“No,” Superboy snapped back immediately. It was a lie—Robin could see him trembling, just faintly. “I just...didn’t like that. The sound was annoying. It’s _still_ annoying. Everything about this weapon thing...I just don’t like it.”  
  
Robin felt himself frowning slightly. He might have been willing to buy into the sound being an issue—Conner’s hearing was vastly superior to the rest of them, after all—but something about Superboy’s reaction made him feel uneasy.  
  
That unease grew when Wally nodded in agreement and muttered, “I get what he means. Something about it is just...weird. Something just feels _off_ , you know?”  
  
“No,” Artemis said flatly. “I don’t. I mean, okay, maybe the noise is a little annoying, but it’s a noise. Whatever.”  
  
“You guys really don’t feel that?” Kid Flash asked incredulously. “I don’t know, dude. Something about this just doesn’t seem right. I’ve got a bad feeling about this mission...”  
  
“Something’s not right,” Superboy agreed. He looked distinctly unasterous...and with way more than his usual scowl.  
  
Robin and Artemis exchanged glances, and Artemis shook her head just slightly, as if to say, _no idea what he’s talking about, you?_  
  
Robin shrugged, but now there were alarm bells going off in his head. Whatever had happened, it had affected Superboy and Kid Flash in a way that made them distinctly uneasy and nervous, a vast difference from their usual aggressiveness and enthusiasm during missions. With such a crazy mood swing, Robin was inclined to think first and foremost of Scarecrow, as a born and bred Gothamite, but he vetoed the idea almost immediately. If they’d somehow been dosed with fear gas, or even had some alternative means of affecting their mood with sound, he and Artemis would have been affected too. But they were fine—no mood swings, no fearful trembling, no second guessing their mission.  
  
_What makes us immune?_ Robin wondered. Maybe it was fear gas after all—he and Artemis were both from Gotham, even if Artemis didn’t know he knew that, she might have built up some kind of immunity.  
  
_You’re ignoring the most obvious answer,_ he argued with himself, in a voice that sounded distinctly like Batman when Robin had managed to miss out on an obvious clue in their detective work. _It might not be immunity. You may just not be the target for this weapon._ After all, the most obvious difference between him and Artemis versus Superboy and Kid Flash was the former set’s lack of powers.  
  
“An _Anti-League_ weapon,” Robin muttered under his breath. Nearly the entirety of the Justice League had super powers, whether they were natural due to unique physiology, or gained through study or experimentation. Batman and Green Arrow were the only notable exceptions to the rule. If this weapon was targeting individuals with powers somehow, the League would be severely crippled.  
  
The question was, what would it _do_ to those people with powers? Wally and Conner were both still alive; it obviously wasn’t built to kill, unless it wasn’t fully operational yet. But there were dozens of other things that might be possible—it could make them weaker, or sick, or use subconscious commands or sounds to control them, or who only knew what else. This was only the tip of the iceberg. They had to know more.  
  
“Rob?” Kid Flash asked softly, giving him a funny look.  
  
Robin cursed himself for getting lost in his thoughts. _You can’t afford to do that now. You’re the leader here. You’ve got three people under your command you’re in charge of keeping safe, you can’t take stupid risks._  
  
“It might be targeting people with powers,” Robin said out loud, after a long moment. “That would explain why me and Artemis don’t feel anything…we don’t have any.”  
  
“A weapon that attacks people with super powers?” Kid Flash said, with dawning comprehension. “But that means…”  
  
His teammates’ eyes widened, and Robin knew they understood the dangerous implications of the weapon just as well as he did.

* * *

Credit where it’s due: I wrote this fic for Black Friar’s Young Justice contest. There’s still time to enter, so if you’re interested (or just curious) you can check it out here:

fanfictionforyj.livejournal.com/

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left me kudos for the last chapter. You're very kind :)  
> Little bit of blood in this chapter.

There was a moment of silence as Robin’s words began to really sink in for all of them.  
  
“Should we back out?” Artemis muttered finally, eyes narrowing to a frown. “Batman said—”  
  
“I know what Batman said,” Robin cut her off. “But right now this is just a theory. We haven’t confirmed it, or how bad it might be. We haven’t been caught yet, and if it really _is_ targeting people with powers, then it’s absolutely vital we get this intel _before_ this thing can go live or be seen by this mysterious buyer. We don’t leave, not until I know what’s going on.”  
  
Kid Flash gave Robin a wary, uneasy look, and Robin belatedly realized he’d used ‘I’ again, just like back on his first disastrous attempt to run the team on Santa Prisca. _Get it together, you idiot_ , he cursed himself again. _You can’t afford to be this crappy a leader right now!_ Especially not after the exercise. Artemis might not know the difference, but Superboy and Kid Flash had been there, and KF in particular had known just how intensely far down he could go. Nobody could afford to second guess him right now—he had to keep himself under control just as much as the others.  
  
“It’s gotten quieter,” Robin continued. “We’ll have to avoid exits to stay away from the guards, so we’ll head up.” He pointed upwards at the underside of the stairs they were hiding beneath. “If we’re lucky we’ll find something we can use and beat it out of here before they know the difference. And you two,” he added, glancing at Superboy and Kid Flash, “We definitely want to make sure you guys aren’t seen. Even if we’re not sure what it does yet, we know you guys are at least a little affected by this thing, and we definitely don’t want these people getting the idea they can somehow incapacitate you guys or Superman and Flash.”  
  
Superboy scowled, and made a fist so tight Robin could hear a faint crackle from his tense knuckles. “I’d like to see them _try._ ”  
  
“That’s exactly what we _don’t_ want them to do, SB,” Robin hissed back. “I mean it. Stealth at all costs, okay? Even if we get caught.”  
  
Neither one looked happy about the order, but they both still looked distinctly uncomfortable with the white noise and the greater threat it implied. Kid Flash finally muttered, “You’re the one with the promotion. Fine. We’ll be extra careful.”  
  
“Not that we’re going to get caught to begin with,” Artemis cut in quickly, shooting Robin a look, as though she expected him to throw himself out in front of the nearest guards and start waving his hands around.  
  
“No,” he agreed, “But I want a game plan for it anyway.” After all, their covert missions tended to not _stay_ that way, and with something as vital as this...  
  
The others seemed to buy the excuse though, and after a moment, they nodded. Satisfied, Robin slunk to the edge of their hiding space and glanced around before signaling that it was okay to move. They snuck up the stairs they’d been hiding under quickly, moving on.  
  
The second floor wasn’t as crowded as the first, probably because there were less exits and everyone had already moved on to their other destinations for the testing. They were able to dart down the halls quickly, glancing briefly into the rooms they passed for anything they could use to complete their mission. Most of the second floor seemed to be for more domestic use—at least half the rooms they passed seemed to be empty dormitories for the facility’s many staff members. But halfway through the circular loop they started finding what looked like office rooms, full of filing cabinets and locked drawers, all of which might be promising.  
  
“What’re the odds that nobody’s here right now?” Kid Flash asked in disbelief, as they glanced into the dark rooms.  
  
“Pretty high. They’re not expecting intruders, and anyway all these places have cameras.” Artemis pointed at one well-hidden camera in the corner, its glassy surface only just barely visible at the right angle. “If Robin hadn’t taken care of those already we’d be caught easy.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Robin said, poking his head into one of the dark offices. “None of these are what we’re looking for. These are just paper pushers, taking care of supplies or paychecks probably. Nothing high-end. We need... _hah!_ Jackpot.” He crossed the room swiftly and came to stop in front of another door at the far end, one impossible to see into due to a lack of a window. When he tried his hand at the knob, he found it locked. “Now _this_ is more promising.”  
  
“A locked door, big whoop, there’s been loads of those already,” Kid Flash grumped.  
  
“Sure, but somebody’s got to be in charge of this place, and I’m betting his office is in here,” Robin said, as he examined the door. “Look—an electronic keypad to gain access and everything. Everything else on this floor has been standard lock and key. Something inside here is way more important than anything else on this floor, and I’m thinking we find out what.”  
  
He plugged the portable computer set into his glove into the keypad’s port. Like before, the security was surprisingly good, but he had still bypassed it in under five minutes. The door _wooshed_ open, and Robin stepped in with a batarang in hand, in case anyone was still inside. It was empty, and he snapped on the lights, glancing around at the surprisingly spartan interior. A number of filing cabinets, a simple desk and chair, and a lamp were all that made up the place.  
  
Well, that, and the surprisingly high-tech computer on the desk. It looked almost out of place compared to the rest of the room’s contents, and Robin ached to hack into it almost immediately.  
  
“I think this is what we were looking for, guys,” he said, as he threw himself into the chair by the desk and scooted forward to the computer. “Keep an eye out for anyone sneaking up on us while I try to break into this.”  
  
The others nodded and split into their roles even as Robin plugged into the computer. Superboy set himself up near the doorway as lookout, while Artemis and Kid Flash searched through the rest of the room. They found several keys taped under the bottom of the desk that fit the filing cabinets, and immediately broke in to rifle through its contents for anything else of value. Robin focused on his own task, fighting his way through the top-of-the-line security with a little smirk on his face. Whoever was in charge here, they were _good_. It was actually entertaining to work his way past the digital walls his opponent had set; it was like a good puzzle, and Dick loved a challenge.  
  
He also loved being rewarded for his success when he beat a challenge, and his grin grew wider five minutes later, when he had finally cracked his way into some of the files. “Got something!” he crowed, as he flipped through the data rapidly, searching for anything of value to them.  
  
Artemis and Kid Flash glanced up from the thick folders they’d been digging through, before stuffing them back in the cabinets. Abandoning the apparently impossible task, they headed over to the desk to see if Robin had been any more successful.  
  
He definitely had. “We’ve got a timetable,” Robin reported. “We knew a potential buyer was coming, but it’s earlier than we were anticipating. They’re expecting to see the buyer’s representative tomorrow afternoon.” He frowned.  
  
The others looked uneasy as well. “So we have a weapon that might attack people with powers,” Artemis summarized, “and it could be active as early as tomorrow afternoon?”  
  
“Any specs on this thing?” Kid Flash asked, as he rounded the desk to look over Robin’s shoulder. “Any idea what it _does,_ other than maybe targeting super-powered people?”  
  
He looked distinctly uneasy, and Robin didn’t blame him. Throughout their search he’d checked in with Wally and Connor twice more, and they had still reported something feeling ‘off,’ even if neither of them could place it. The faster they knew how this thing worked, the better.  
  
Unfortunately, Robin didn’t have an answer for him. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I can see where some of the specs might be stored, but it’s triple encrypted. I’m running a decryption algorithm now, but it’ll take a few minutes. I’m digging through his emails now instead.” He smirked. “Amazing how people think they’re so private.”  
  
“Well, anything else useful there?” Artemis pressed, glancing over her shoulder. Superboy, still standing in the doorway, glanced back briefly before nodding. They still had a little more time.  
  
“I’m looking. Give me a sec. Hold on...” Eyes narrowed behind his mask, Robin brought up another email. “Here’s something...they’re hoping if the buyer is interested, he’ll be able to supply ‘appropriate test subjects.’ They haven’t been able to get their hands on anybody with ‘unusual abilities’ yet.”  
  
“So it _is_ targeting people with powers!” Kid Flash hissed, eyes widening. “Oh, this is so not good.”  
  
“Relax, KF,” Robin said. “It’s not good, but think about it. If they haven’t been able to test this thing on anybody with powers yet, they don’t know if it even works. It’s all theoretical. It might not even work the way they were intending. If we can figure out a way to sabotage the project, or make them think it’s a failure, this could still go our way. As long as they don’t get any proof it’s successful before then—”  
  
There was a sudden frantic beeping, and the holographic readout over Robin’s glove started going haywire. The blinking message in the corner indicated his attempt to hack into the weapon specs had inexplicably failed, and seconds later the entire holographic screen flashed red as half a dozen warning messages went off in rapid succession.  
  
“What the heck is that?” Kid Flash yelped.  
  
“Somebody’s trying to hack _me,_ ” Robin hissed incredulously. Without hesitation he reached out and yanked the cord from his glove out of the computer’s port, cutting off the connection, but the damage had already been done. “Somebody knows we’re here!”  
  
They moved instantly, but had barely stepped foot out of the inner office when they heard the thunder of boots in the hallway outside, and several armed men appeared in the doorway of the larger office room. They would be disoriented from moving out of the bright hallway into the dark room, but that would only last a few seconds.  
  
A few seconds they used to their advantage. Artemis didn’t hesitate to let two arrows fly, knocking the guns out of the lead attacker’s hands. The men cursed and stumbled back, and in the brief time they had, Kid Flash hissed, “Why didn’t we get any warning?”  
  
“I...I didn’t hear them,” Superboy said, sounding surprised. “Until just now. I didn’t know...”  
  
_Oh, not good,_ Robin thought grimly, even as he slid several throwing discs into his hands. _If this weapon is weakening Superboy’s powers we might be in trouble. And he was shivering earlier too—is it making him_ sick, _maybe?_  
  
But they couldn’t afford to let on that he was weaker in any way, and that meant they couldn’t stay in this fight any longer. He’d meant what he said, earlier—they could not afford to give the enemy any advantage, especially with something so vital. So he hissed, “Batman’s orders—tactical retreat, now!”  
  
Two more men with guns appeared in the doorway to replace their disarmed coworkers. Kid Flash immediately launched forward to perform his usual role of clearing a path for everyone else. He wouldn’t be able to build up much speed in close quarters, but even in this small range, a teenager ramming into several adults at sixty miles per hour was bound to knock them over and give the team a chance to zip past.  
  
Unfortunately, Kid Flash didn’t hit sixty miles an hour—he barely hit six. The startled not-so-speedy speedster crashed into one of the guards, and while the man did stumble back in surprise and drop his weapon, his partner was not so easily disarmed. The second guard couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting his partner, but he did reach out and collar  Wally around the neck, shifting as though to slam him into the wall. Wally, stunned, clawed weakly at the man’s arm.  
  
“Let him go,” Artemis snarled, and fired off another arrow. The weapon hit Wally’s guard in the arm, and the man screeched in surprise, letting go of both his gun and his captive as he moved to clutch at his injured limb. Kid Flash, no idiot even in his shock, backpedaled hastily—relatively speaking—to stand next to Artemis, rubbing his neck.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he managed to stammer. “I was supposed to smash past them full speed. I’ve done it a hundred times. Why didn’t...?”  
  
It was definitely a concern, but Robin had a bigger one at the moment. Another pair of guards were trying to shove their way forward, and he had a feeling these ones would open fire without waiting around for a few pesky kids to foil them. He hurled himself forward quickly into their range, removing their ability to use the firearms without risking friendly fire at the same time. Several quick disarming moves had the guns snapped out of their hands, and an aerial launch had him delivering rapid one-two kicks to the men’s faces, dropping them where they stood.  
  
Robin twisted easily to land on his feet and launched himself out into the hallway, flinging several throwing discs out to disarm guards, force them to dodge, and generally cause havoc. In the chaos, he leapt up to the shoulders of one of the central guards, and spun in a quick helicopter kick, using the force of the blow to shove the man he was balancing on at several of his coworkers. The man stumbled, Robin dropped neatly to his feet in a crouch, and a moment later he yelled over his shoulder at his companions, _“Move! Hurry!”_  
  
They didn’t need to be told twice. Artemis came blasting out after him, firing several more arrows at the guards that hadn’t been disarmed to discourage them from shooting. Kid Flash stumbled after her seconds later, still looking disbelieving, and Superboy brought up the rear, also looking deeply confused and shocked. They pelted after Robin down the hallway away from the guards.  
  
“Keep going!” Robin ordered. “Head down, we need to find a way out!”  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder at his companions, and out of the corner of his eye noticed something odd in the scrambled pack of mooks they were rapidly leaving behind. One man wasn’t dressed in the guard’s uniform. He looked much scrawnier, and was dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt and slacks with a classic white labcoat thrown over them. Although he didn’t look like much, and had clearly been hiding behind the armed combat professionals, there was something about him that Robin didn’t like. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and in that moment Robin recognized the sharp intelligence in them, even if he had never seen the man before in his life. _This_ had to be the data master he’d been dueling with up until this point. This was the man with the well-made security systems, and this was the man who had, incredibly, had the gall to try and hack _Bat-tech._  
  
Robin grit his teeth as they ducked around the corner and down the nearest set of steps. That man was going to be a problem—but later. For now, they had a bigger problem on their hands, like _not getting shot._  
  
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the air erupted with a sudden loud series of alarms. A moment later, the same irritable voice from earlier that had ordered testing snarled over the intercom, _“We have intruders! I want the building on full lockdown. Nobody escapes. Shoot them on sight!”_  
  
“Crap, crap, crap,” Kid Flash gasped from just behind Robin. He was managing a respectable speed for a regular human to keep pace with the others, but Dick knew without a shred of doubt that Wally wouldn’t be able to pull out much more than that. His breathing also sounded raspy, although Robin honestly wasn’t sure if it was because maintaining the pace was difficult, or because of the choking he’d gotten a few minutes earlier. Either way, he didn’t sound great.  
  
“Stay whelmed, keep moving!” Robin shouted over his shoulder to the others. Artemis had dropped back a pace to take up the rear, with an arrow fitted to the string already to cover their backs. Smart move; with Kid Flash and Superboy weakened if not completely powerless, he and Artemis were the primary lines of defense and the best chance they had to get out. At the same time, he tried to ignore the clench of fear in his heart when he remembered the _last_ time she’d dropped back to cover them. This _wasn’t_ the exercise. It wasn’t the same.  
  
_Yeah, it’s a hell of a lot worse,_ a dark little voice hissed in his head. _She won’t come back from this one if you screw up. It’s_ real, _with real threats and real bullets._  
  
But no, he wasn’t going to let that happen this time, not on his watch.  
  
They darted around a corner and for the nearest set of doors, stationed in another storage room just near an observation area that looked out into the white empty expanse surrounding the facility. There were only three guards at the door, and Robin felt a flash of relief at the sight, even as he snapped out several throwing discs to disarm them. The men yelped in pain and dropped their weapons, clutching in surprise at their now injured hands, and Robin darted forward with the intent to clear the way.  
  
Too late, he heard the click of guns on the far end of the storage room, where the circular hallway reconnected. He looked up in time to see seven more armed guards piling through the door to the hallway, with more beyond, all raising their weapons to fire.  
  
_“Look out!”_ He hollered, twisting on his heel and diving back for the others as the guns opened fire. Kid Flash was already moving, and Artemis performed a daring dive out of the way while firing one of her arrows, disarming one of the shooters and lessening the hail of bullets just slightly.  
  
Superboy was not so lucky. Never accustomed to avoiding bullets to begin with due to his invulnerability, his primary strategy had always been to take the hits and either shield his allies or attack his opponents while they wasted their ammo on him. As a result, he’d never quite had that instinctual need to get out of the way of the gunfire—and the precious few milliseconds it took him to register that maybe this time he ought to move cost him. Even as he started to dodge aside, a gash slashed open in his side from an extremely lucky mostly-miss, and a second less lucky hit slammed home in his left arm.  
  
Superboy’s yowl of pain was the only noise that split the sudden, otherwise stunned silence. Even the guards stopped firing as they paused to register the blood now dripping freely from the Kryptonian’s arm and side. Robin could practically hear the gears whirring in their heads as they made the connection. _He wears the S-shield. Superman isn’t damaged by bullets. This guy shouldn’t be, but he bleeds. If he bleeds, we can kill him. If he bleeds, our weapon works._  
  
Robin cursed even as he hurled down a double handful of smoke bombs, but by then it was too late. Once again, the damage had been done, and the enemy had seen their weaknesses. With far more enthusiasm than before, the gunfire opened up again.  
  
Robin dived and kicked out in a fast leg sweep, cutting Superboy’s legs out from underneath him and knocking him over before he could be riddled with bullets. Superboy yelled in pain again as the drop jarred his injured arm, but Robin didn’t even have time to feel sorry about that—better in pain than dead. He rolled, gripped Connor under his good arm, and keeping low to avoid the bullets, hauled him as best as he could out of firing range behind a stack of crates. Thankfully, Superboy picked up on the urgency of the movement and helped shift his own weight a little, otherwise Robin was sure he wouldn’t have managed it completely on his own.  
  
_“Smoke’s not gonna last long!”_ he ordered over their short-range comms, low enough that the enemy wouldn’t be able to overhear them. _“We’re not getting out of the building that way. Even if we break through the doors we’re sitting ducks in an open range out there. We need to hide! KF, help SB. Artemis, cover them.”_  
  
Even as he spoke, he crouched over the bleeding Kryptonian—still fighting off his shock at seeing an open wound like that on Connor at all—and ripped a few gauze pads from his utility belt. He didn’t have time to treat the wound completely just yet, assuming they even could, but they couldn’t afford to leave a blood trail either, not when they needed to hide. “SB, you with me?” he asked sharply, even as he managed a quick field dressing on the arm injury.  
  
Superboy gritted his teeth, and looked more than a little dazed, but after a moment he nodded. He had to be in pain, but he’d never been immune to pain before and knew how to deal. The shock of actually being _shot_ was probably as much of a problem right now as the injury itself, but if he could focus long enough to help them get him out of there...  
  
“Keep this pressed on that side injury,” Robin ordered, pressing another gauze pad into Superboy’s free hand and guiding it to the wound. Superboy was normally an unmovable rock unless he felt like playing along, but now it was easy to manipulate his arm, which Robin found worrying. The super strength was gone too, it looked like. “As hard as you can, okay? You can’t bleed out.” _God, try explaining letting the_ Kryptonian _bleed to death on your mission. How’s that for failing your team?_  
  
“R-right,” Superboy rasped, and did as ordered. Artemis and Kid Flash appeared moments later, as Robin finished tying off his makeshift bandage for the arm wound. Both looked pale and very alarmed by the sight of the injuries on their supposedly invulnerable teammate, and Robin couldn’t blame them. They’d seen Connor thrown through walls, dipped in lava, attacked by all manner of creatures, and shot by all manner of weapons, and the only thing that had ever seriously put a dent in him was Wolf. Now he looked just as vulnerable as they did, and it was more than a little terrifying to see their impenetrable shield broken and bleeding.  
  
Still, they moved into action as ordered, recognizing the need for speed and the time limit they had over their heads. Artemis turned immediately and began using the cover of the crates they were ducked behind to fire off a number of arrows at their opponents, disarming and distracting. Neither side could see the other due to Robin’s extra-thick smoke cloud still filling the air, but Artemis had practiced blind shooting with Robin before after learning how useful the smoke pellets were in combat, and she seemed to be hitting most of her marks.  
  
Kid Flash ducked quickly and slid Superboy’s good arm over his shoulders, helping to haul the currently powerless Boy of Steel to his feet. “Easy, there,” he muttered, as Connor swayed slightly and leaned heavily on Wally.  
  
“This is stupid,” Connor managed to growl. He looked deeply frustrated as much as he looked to be in pain. “Shouldn’t be... _this_ messed up from a gunshot. ”  
  
“Yeah, getting shot sucks,” Kid Flash commiserated, “And the first time is always the worst, trust me. Just take it easy and focus on walking and keeping that side from bleeding, okay? I’ll direct.” His voice sounded casual and even—Robin recognized his ‘reassuring a victim’ voice, dialed down a notch for the sake of Connor’s pride. When Wally raised his eyes to meet Robin’s, though, Dick recognized more than a little panic in them. “What’s the plan?”  
  
“We can’t break for the bioship,” Robin said, even as he began pulling several throwing discs free. “With you guys powerless there’s no way we’d survive a run across open ground with this many armed guards. But they’re expecting escape, so we hide instead—in that inner courtyard. It’ll buy us time.” _Hopefully, anyway._  
  
“When do we move?” Artemis asked curtly, in between shots.  
  
“I’ll drop a misdirect. Break for that door leading to the transport hub in the center there, swap to polar stealth when you’re outside, and look for someplace to hide. Artemis, you cover them, KF, help SB and keep an eye out in case he starts dropping a blood trail. I’ll join you when I’m done.”  
  
Kid Flash’s eyes, though still filled with panic, narrowed slightly, and even Superboy managed to eye Robin warily even through his obvious pain. “This better be one of your usual ninja things, Rob,” Kid Flash said with an edge of warning, “And not some stupid heroic...trick, or something.”  
  
_Heroic sacrifice,_ Dick read in between the lines. He knew instantly the two of them were thinking of the exercise too—the way Robin had bought a little time with Superboy’s heroic sacrifice, and paid for a victory with his own and Kid Flash’s lives. And unfortunately, he couldn’t really blame them.  
  
But he had no intention of pulling a stunt like that this time, not now. Not when his primary goal was getting his team out safe and they were relying on him. So, although the very thought of the exercise still made his stomach churn, he forced on his trademark smirk and said, “Easy, KF. We’re not that desperate. Just some basic Batman ninja work, I’ll probably catch up with you before you even find a place to hide. Okay? Now get ready.”  
  
They nodded, which was all Dick needed, and he vanished into the gloom just like Batman had taught him. The smoke from the bombs was starting to dissipate, so he had to move fast. He used its cover to his advantage and darted swiftly back towards the observation room, and its large windows overlooking the wide snowy expanse beyond the facility. He flicked the throwing discs still in his hand into glass, where they stuck, quivering, and began blinking their countdown to detonation.  
  
Now for the important part. He backed out of the room quickly, slid around a corner, and waited, mentally counting down the seconds before his Bat-made bombs went off. Just before they detonated, he yelled loudly, “Hurry! Outside!”  
  
If the shout didn’t draw the enemy’s attention, the huge explosion blowing out the window and a significant portion of the exterior wall almost certainly did. The guards began pouring through the smoke, determined to catch their would-be escapers, shouting and gesturing to each other loudly and chaotically. When they couldn’t immediately spot the intruders, several began clambering their way out of the massive hole and over the rubble, splitting up in either direction to search for their elusive—and non-existent—escapers.  
  
It would do for now, Robin thought, as he carefully and stealthily skirted the area and made for a different exit into the inner courtyard. With the snow and ground all churned up outside already from their own patrols, and the chaos of the firefight, it would take a little while for the enemy to realize none of their intruders had actually exited that way. After that, they would probably start searching the facility itself—nobody would be foolhardy enough to hide outdoors in enemy territory in _this_ weather.  
  
Which, of course, was why they were doing it. But hopefully it would buy them enough time to figure a way out of this mess.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for all the wonderful responses, everyone :) You've all been great, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!

Robin found himself marginally lucky when he found another exit into the open air transport hub in the center of the ringed facility. Nobody was guarding these doors, presumably not expecting anybody to try and escape this way into a dead end. He ducked through and tapped his R insignia to swap from his Robin blacks and reds into the polar whites and blues. Suitably camouflaged again, he began creeping his way between metal transport containers and abandoned machinery, following his friends’ GPS trackers and being careful to cover his own tracks.   
  
He found them five minutes later. They had picked a good place to hide, in a disorderly, clustered arrangement of large transport containers that sheltered them from the cold wind and provided decent cover from any of the windows. Of course, that assumed anybody was bothering to look into the central hub when they should be looking for escaping intruders. It also looked like it was going to start getting dark soon, which might work in their favor.   
  
Robin slid around the corner and found himself face to face with one of Artemis’ pointier arrows. She had placed herself defensively between the only entrance into the little storage alcove and their two powerless teammates, and looked both tense with nerves and absolutely ready to brawl at the slightest provocation. Robin held his hands up hastily and hissed, “Woah, easy, stay traught.”   
  
She grimaced and lowered her bow, muttering, “Sorry. Trying. We’re having...difficulties.”  
  
‘Difficulties’ turned out to be their attempts to break into one of the containers. The latch was stuck, probably due to the cold, and required a significant amount of muscle to get it open. If Superboy had been at full power, he could have cracked it open easily, or just bypassed the handle entirely by ripping it clean off. Even now, though powerless, he had a significant amount of muscle at his disposal, but he was weaker from his injuries and still in shock. Kid Flash was attempting to help while still holding the Kryptonian upright, but wasn’t having much luck.  
  
Robin slid forward to add his own muscle to the mix, and between the three of them they managed to slide the door open a fraction of an inch. Emboldened, they worked together to force it open a little further, enough for Kid Flash and Superboy to slide through. Artemis slipped in next after erasing their tracks, and Robin brought up the rear, carefully and silently closing the container door, leaving it cracked just enough that they could escape if necessary.   
  
When he turned around Artemis had hung her collapsible bow on her belt and was already cracking a few of their emergency glow-sticks, emitting a soft red glow around the interior of the container. Kid Flash was helping Superboy sit down against one wall, and Connor was gritting his teeth with every jarring movement, fingers digging into his side and the now very red and soaked strip of gauze in his hand.  
  
Robin could feel the rising edge of panic from everyone…even himself, deep in his own gut. He was well practiced at staying calm in dangerous situations—he’d been in this since he was nine, after all—but this was going _way_ too wrong, way too fast. This was _supposed_ to be a simple recon mission. Yet here they were, hiding in the middle of enemy territory with a bombed covert mission, with two of their number completely de-powered and one seriously injured that wasn’t even supposed to _be_ wound-able, short of a bad run in with some glowing green rocks. There were probably ways it could get worse, but at this point Robin really didn’t care to hear them.  
  
But still, he had to stay calm. He was the leader here. He had to stay _focused_ and make sure he got everybody through this. He couldn’t let his own panic or his own fears or his own _memories_ get the better of him, not now. If he cracked, so would they.  
  
In fact, it looked as though they already _were._ Now that the major adrenaline rush was over, Kid Flash was starting to pace, looking positively frantic. “This is bad. This is really, _really_ bad. My powers are gone. _Gone._ And Supey’s, too.” He glanced at Superboy’s red bandages with a look of dread, and groaned slightly. “What do we do now with no powers? How can we—”  
  
 _“KF!”_ Robin interrupted sharply. He didn’t quite yell—it would be idiotic in a situation like this—but he had seen Batman stop entire conversations with a single word, and used the same technique now. Wally’s mouth snapped shut with a click of teeth, and all three of them looked at him, eyes wide.   
  
“Calm. Down,” Robin told him firmly. “Get traught. We can’t freak out like this. Now we take this one step at a time. I bought us a little time, so right now, before we do anything else, we’re going to assess damages. Superboy’s the worst off. Anybody else hurt?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Artemis said immediately. “Down about half my quiver, but no injuries.”   
  
“Good. Kid Flash?”  
  
Wally grit his teeth, but then said, “Not...too bad. Throat hurts a little. A couple bruises and a bullet graze. I wasn’t...fast enough to dodge...” His fists clenched, and he looked deeply unsettled.   
  
“Okay. Artemis, see if you can help him with those injuries. KF—try to contact the Cave, the League, anybody.” Having a task to keep him busy might keep him off the fact that his powers were gone.  
  
“I thought we were maintaining radio silence?” Kid Flash asked uneasily, as Robin crouched down next to Superboy.   
  
“That was before, when the situation was covert. It’s no longer covert,” Robin said grimly. “There’s no mission to hide anymore. Batman stressed safety over all else. If we can get backup...”  
  
“Right,” Wally gasped, sounding almost relieved. His throat sounded awful. “Right.” He reached up to touch at his earpiece as Artemis crouched next to him and began cleaning and bandaging the few minor gashes he’d gained, rotating through their usual list of contacts.  
  
Robin kept an ear open and listened, even as he pulled off the bandages he’d hastily applied to Superboy’s arm. The Kryptonian winced as Robin began to carefully prod at the wound, inspecting the extent of the damage, but after a moment he gasped, “I didn’t realize getting sh-shot...hurt this bad.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s not really what you’d call a fun time,” Robin agreed, doing what he could to keep his teammate talking as he worked.   
  
“No,” Superboy agreed. “Bullets were just annoying be..before. Even things that did hurt...were never... _this_ bad. Didn’t realize...how much I liked…invulnerability.”   
  
Robin didn’t really have an answer for that, and instead remained uncharacteristically silent, lips pressed together, unsure what to say. _Too bad it’s gone_ seemed a little insensitive, and _don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t be gone long_ could very well be a lie. They still didn’t know what had happened, other than this weapon activating had somehow removed his friends’ powers completely.   
  
Because it was clear they were completely missing _all_ their powers, not just a select few, and not just mildly weakened. Kid Flash would have healed those minor gashes already with his increased metabolism, and he’d have at least been able to hit the speed of a slow car. Superboy’s hearing, strength and invulnerability had all failed him, and his other abilities were probably gone as well. They’d reported feeling ‘off’ ever since the moment that weapon had started up; it was clear, now, what it had been doing, and why it had been marketed as an ‘anti-League weapon.’   
  
It was still going too, Robin realized a moment later. The white noise humming that hadn’t really bothered him or Artemis was still just barely hovering in the air, easy to ignore. Easy, other than the fact he _knew_ it was somehow connected to his friends losing their powers. Still, if it was still running, maybe they might still have a chance if they could figure out how to turn it off.   
  
He puzzled over that and filed it away in the back of his mind for later as he carefully cleaned and bandaged Superboy’s injury with his first aid supplies. “The bullet’s still in there,” he finally said with a grimace. “You don’t have an exit wound. I don’t want to pull it out though, it might do more damage than help.” Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure if Kryptonian biology differed significantly from human beneath the skin, and it wasn’t like Superman had a record of getting himself cut open. Nor was he sure if Connor’s clone status would make a difference. Either way, he didn’t want to hurt him further.  
  
“That’s...fine. Not Kryptonite. I can deal.” Superboy grimaced.   
  
It was on the tip of his tongue to say Kryptonite might not even hurt him right now, but Robin held back. It might not be the silver lining Connor was hoping for, especially when he clearly was already miserable. Robin wrapped the wound carefully and moved on to Connor’s bleeding side. This wasn’t as bad as it looked, fortunately. It had sliced muscle pretty painfully and might have seriously bruised a couple of ribs. But it appeared to be a graze wound rather than anything penetrating, and hadn’t hit anything vital, thank God. Robin honestly wasn’t sure what he could have done for the Kryptonian if _that_ had happened. He bandaged that wound too, and was just putting the finishing touches on the injury when he felt Connor starting to shake.   
  
“SB?” he asked, confused.   
  
“Nothing,” Connor said—awkwardly, because his teeth were starting to chatter. For a moment, Dick felt a stab of alarm—was Connor already getting sick? Was the wound infected or something? He’d cleaned it pretty thoroughly, but he had no idea what Superboy’s immune system was like. With his Kryptonian invulnerability, and barely seven months of age, it wasn’t as though it had ever been tested before now.   
  
But when he pressed a hand to Connor’s forehead to feel for a fever—and hoped that was an actual way to tell whether or not he was sick—the clone felt cool, not warm. Too cold, actually, which was when it hit Robin that Superboy’s polar stealth consisted of a color-changing T-shirt, a pair of cargo jeans, and boots. Unlike himself, Artemis, and even Kid Flash, Superboy had never felt the cold before, and so never bothered to dress for it.   
  
“Damn,” Robin swore. “You’re freezing.”  
  
“Is th-that what th-this is?” Connor chattered. “Wh-whatever i-it is, I h-hate it.”   
  
“Welcome to our world,” Robin said, with a pained smile. “Get away from that metal wall,  it’s not helping any. Here.” He unfastened his own cape—the fur-lined version he wore for his own winter missions—and threw it around Superboy’s shoulders. On Robin it came down to his knees and could envelope him completely if he curled up a little to conserve warmth. On the much larger Superboy it was more like a big towel, but it covered his torso and bare arms at least, which was a start.   
  
Superboy frowned. “You need it t-too—”  
  
But Robin shook his head. “No, the rest of my costume is insulated too. The cape’s just extra, just in case.” It was more comforting certainly, and it did help with the stealth, but Batman had ensured his costume worked without it just as well. “And we really can’t have you dying of hypothermia, SB, ‘cause really, that’s a terrible way for any Super to go, okay?”  
  
“F-fine.” Looking part frustrated and part deeply relieved, Connor pulled the cape a little more tightly around himself and huddled down into the warmth it provided.  
  
“Move over here, too. Back to back with KF. You can share some body heat and he can help you stay upright,” Dick added, slipping a hand underneath Connor’s good arm through the cape to help him move.  
  
“Not _weak,_ ” Superboy snapped angrily. “I don’t need this much help—”  
  
“Of course you don’t,” Robin said, “But we definitely need to conserve your strength for later, so take it easy while you can, okay?”  
  
 _“Fine,”_ Superboy growled. It had no bite to it; he sounded exhausted, cold, and generally miserable.   
  
Robin got him settled down in the center of the container, back to back with Wally and as far from the chilly metal walls as possible. Kid Flash didn’t argue or even question why; he was too busy fiddling with his communicator in frustration.  
  
“No use, Rob,” the speed-less speedster finally muttered in frustration. “Comms are all jammed. I can’t get through to the League, the Watchtower, the Cave, Flash... _nobody.”_   
  
“Then we’re on our own,” Artemis summarized grimly. She put the final touches on the bandage wrapped around Wally’s head and tied it off. “There. At least that’s taken care of.”  
  
“It’d be taken care of already if I had my powers,” Kid Flash said. “It was just a graze, I could’ve healed that up in five minutes—”  
  
“Will you quit complaining?” Artemis snapped. “Robin and I don’t have powers and you don’t see _us_ whining right now!” Instead of his usual bantering remark, however, Wally just winced and looked deeply uncomfortable. Artemis sighed, but added a little more gently, “Look, we’ll figure it out, but if you keep freaking out and talking about what you _could have_ done we’re never going to get out of this mess.”   
  
“Sorry,” Kid Flash muttered, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. “It’s just...I mean, those are my _powers._ I’ve had’em for years now. And these jerks just... _took_ them like they had the right!”   
  
Robin and Artemis exchanged quick glances, both surprised at the edge of vulnerability in Wally’s voice. It was a little difficult to understand, but Robin supposed if somebody had rooted around inside of him and stole his acrobatic skills, he’d be upset too. It would be a violation of his very identity, stealing a core part of who he was, and probably at a moment he needed to rely on it the most. And that was what was happening to Kid Flash and Superboy now, he realized, and what _would_ happen if they let this anti-League weapon be put into full effect. It would do more than just incapacitate the League physically; it could very well decimate them mentally, too.  
  
“Do...” Wally hesitated, and then said uneasily, “Do you think it’s...permanent? Like...that  they stole our powers forever?”   
  
“At least you could get them back,” Connor said, still chattering slightly. He also sounded strangely subdued. “You started without them.”   
  
“Hey, that experiment was no cakewalk!” Wally argued. “I was in the hospital for days.”   
  
“Easier than cloning,” Superboy sniped back. “You think if it was easy to just make Superman’s powers they would’ve bothered with me?” His shoulders were tense beneath Robin’s cape. The unspoken _my powers are the only reason I was even born and I’m nothing if I lose them_ hovered uncomfortably in the air, even if Superboy was too stubborn and prideful to say them.   
  
“We still don’t know the details yet,” Robin cut in quickly, before the mood could take an uncomfortable downward spiral that might sabotage their attempts to get out alive. “We have no idea if your powers were completely removed, drained, or just blocked, and whether or not it’s permanent or temporary. So stay whelmed. We’ll get through this, okay?”   
  
Both Kid Flash and Superboy eyed Robin with uneasy hope. They both looked so miserable and defeated, sitting back to back in the gloom, all bandaged up and, in Superboy’s case, huddled forward to try and keep warm. Despite his own unease about the mission, Robin forced his confident smirk onto his face, and used every scrap of his training from Batman to keep his body language and voice confident and calm. And it seemed to work; after a moment Superboy nodded slowly, and Wally offered a weak smile back. “Right. _Whelmed_.”  
  
“Good,” Robin said, and glanced up at Artemis. She looked like she was more on to his game, and he suspected she was remembering their battle against the Reds, enough to know he was doing his damned best to make sure his teammates stayed ‘traught.’ But Artemis had come a long way since then too, and if she was _dis_ traught she was doing her best to hide it as well this time, for the sake of the mission and her teammates.   
  
She nodded once, as if acknowledging his actions, before asking, “What now?”  
  
“ _Now_ we’re stuck here for a while,” Robin said, sitting down near Superboy and gesturing for Artemis to do the same. The Kryptonian was still trembling under Robin’s cape, and they had to do what they could to keep him warm or risk him getting sick or worse in the middle of enemy territory. Artemis caught on and sat on Superboy’s other side. If he caught on to their actions, or considered it an indication of his weakness, he didn’t let on.   
  
“They’re going to be scrambling for a few hours out there trying to find us,” Robin continued, “Which means we’re more or less locked down here until the activity starts to settle down a bit. By then it’ll be dark out, which means it’ll be colder—” (Superboy growled slightly under his breath) “—but also give us more of a chance to escape under the cover of darkness. In the meantime, we’ll compare notes and see what we can put together about all of _this._ ”   
  
“Nothing good,” Kid Flash mumbled under his breath. His voice still sounded hoarse. They would definitely need to get that looked at when they got out of here.   
  
Robin tapped his glove and brought up the holographic screen. “Let’s start from the beginning,” he said, bringing up the specs from Batman’s mission briefing. “Going on eighteen hours ago now, the League intercepted a transmission from an unknown seller to an unknown buyer about an anti-League weapon they were interested in showcasing. The transmission came from the facility we’re in now, but they’ve also been keeping tabs on the League, preventing them from investigating or risk send the seller scurrying.”   
  
“We’ve filled some of that in,” Kid Flash added. “We know this anti-League weapon stops powers somehow, even if we don’t know the details. We know they weren’t sure if it actually worked—”  
  
“And that I blew it and proved it did,” Superboy cut in, sounding furious with himself.   
  
“Hey, I didn’t exactly help in that regard either,” Wally said with a wince. “Anyway, they know, that’s what matters.”  
  
“And we know they had the buyer’s representative lined up to visit tomorrow,” Artemis concluded. “And now that we gave them an extra selling point by proving this thing works, it’s almost certain to sell.”  
  
“Which gives us a deadline on this mission,” Robin finished grimly. “We need to either pass this information along _before_ this buyer can arrive, or find a way to sabotage the project somehow. If that buyer gets away with this thing, we’ll have no way to track it, or know when this weapon will show up next.”  
  
“Didn’t we sabotage it already?” Artemis asked. “The League was afraid of tipping them off because they’d run. They know we’re here though, right?”  
  
“Doubt it,” Robin said. “They know there’s four kids. At least one of whom they managed to shoot. They’ll probably take their chances eliminating us first. If the comms are jammed, they’re blocking us on purpose—they know we can’t make contact. If they can take us out and make this sale before the League catches on that their partners aren’t coming back...”   
  
Wally swallowed at that, and then asked, “Well, did you get anything from the office before we got caught? You were looking at emails, you have to at least know who the seller is, right?”  
  
Robin swiped through his holographic computer to study the last messages from the infiltration attempt. A moment later he said, “No. His emails were all recorded under the name John Smith; he obviously doesn’t want anybody knowing who he really is. What I do know is this guy is _good_ when it comes to tech. He managed to interrupt my hacking and try to hack me _back_. I stopped him from getting in, but I only got a partial download of the schematics I found, which we can’t do anything with.” He dropped his arm into his lap with disgust.  
  
“So basically we only know the bare details of what’s going on, we’re trapped in enemy territory, and we have a deadline we can’t do anything about,” Kid Flash summarized. “Great. Just _great._ ”   
  
“My guess is it isn’t permanent. Yet, anyway,” Robin said. “If you listen you can still hear that humming going. It started at the same time SB and KF started reporting feeling weird. It’s connected, somehow, we know that much. It’s just a theory, of course, and I don’t know if the fact that it’s still going means it’s blocking powers or stealing them or erasing them entirely, but...it’s something to work off of, at least.”  
  
“Something,” Wally said, looking a little hopeful. “But not much, yet. We need to know more about this thing. We still don’t know enough. If we could even get a full copy of the schematics...”  
  
He did have a point. If they could even get an idea of the design, or _some_ information to bring back to the League—to Batman—they might still be able to find a way to counter this weapon. They might find a way to neutralize it, or turn it against their opponents, whoever they might be. But getting that data would be risky with his teammates in their current condition. They’d all trained for combat with Black Canary without powers, but not against _this_ many opponents, and certainly not this many armed ones. And Connor in particular was hurt, and not used to fighting with injuries as bad as the ones he had, or even with basic concepts like ‘avoid the bullets.’ Trying to get that information would be dangerous.   
  
Robin closed his eyes for a moment behind his mask, trying to think. _What was the priority?_ On the one hand, the mission was still unsuccessful; they’d learned just enough to know how much they didn’t know. On the other hand, his team was in a bad situation. And...and what he had told Black Canary before, in his therapy session after the exercise, was all true. That ruthless, coldly logical _thing_ Batman had in him, that drive to sacrifice everything for the sake of a mission...it _wasn’t_ Robin. Maybe he was being a coward, maybe he was being insecure, afraid to take actions just because they _might_ hurt his team, his _friends_. But he couldn’t do it, no matter how important this mission was.   
  
He wouldn’t send them to their deaths again.  
  
“We need to find a way out of here,” he said finally. “Team safety is the first priority, and Superboy’s hurt pretty bad. KF, you’re not doing so good either. Everyone’s going home on this mission, which means we focus on getting _out._ ”  
  
“What about the weapon?” Artemis asked. “We can’t let that thing get out of here without even knowing about the details! We don’t know what else it might have done to these two.” She jerked her head at Connor and Wally.   
  
Robin clenched his jaw in frustration. “I know,” he said finally. “I know, we can’t just leave it either, but...” He sighed and focused on his breathing again, like Batman taught him, trying to focus. “Our orders were clear,” he said finally. “In the event of an emergency, we retreat immediately, regardless of whether or not we have any substantial intelligence. We already screwed up the ‘covert’ part and half of our team is injured. We retreat.”   
  
They didn’t exactly look happy about it, and Robin couldn’t blame them. It felt like defeat, running away with their tails tucked between their legs to report to the League and let the grown-ups handle it. And even a month ago, Robin would have been right there with them, insisting they finish off the mission with infinite confidence and a smart-ass comment. It was exactly the sort of thing Robin had wanted they first started the team—not wanting to be babied by the League, and wanting to prove they were independent, that they could _handle_ it. The team had done great so far, earning respect from their elders and mentors, but after the exercise everyone’s spirits had taken a hit, and it was like the entire League had decided to put the kid gloves on again. And although it frustrated Robin—although he wanted to prove they could handle this mission without the League babying them—he just didn’t see a way through it that didn’t end up with somebody dead.   
  
God, he really should have rejected that leadership back in the Cave. The mission was a mess, and he was probably only making it worse with his indecision.   
  
But for all that, for all their dislike of his decision, they listened. And when Robin glanced around at them, he could see that same unease he had in his gut mixed in with their exhaustion. They felt the same way he did, he knew, even if he was fighting damn hard not to show it.  
  
Kid Flash was the one who eventually spoke up. He’d been staring at Robin particularly hard, and Robin knew his best friend was probably seeing at least _some_ of the anxiousness he figured he was otherwise hiding pretty well from the team. He did not, thankfully, call Robin on it, and instead said, “Okay, fine. We run. Hey, I used to be good at that, I get it. But... _how?_ There’s guards swarming all over out there!”  
  
“Good question. Fortunately, you have me, and as you all so often point out, I’m pretty good at the ninja thing,” Robin said, smirking automatically. It was frustrating how forced it felt and still how good he was at faking it. “I’ll head out, see if I can scout out a good way to escape. I’ll need to find a way you guys will be able to manage with relatively little stealth.”  
  
“We could be stealthy without powers,” Kid Flash said, sounding a little sulky.   
  
“C’mon, KF, you get too impatient for sneaking even when you can move so fast nobody sees you anyway,” Robin countered, with a teasing tone that to his surprise felt a little more natural. Ribbing KF on missions felt _normal._ “And Superboy relied on his super hearing and heat vision too much.”  
  
“I’m not _completely_ deaf right now, you know,” Connor growled, also looking sulky. He huddled a little farther forward and pulled the borrowed cape more tightly around him.   
  
“Besides, even if you could manage the stealth part okay normally, at the very least SB is hurt pretty bad, and your breathing isn’t exactly good right now either, KF...or subtle. I want to get you guys out as fast as possible without any interference from the guards. In order to manage that, I need to plan out an escape route, and I can do that better on my own.”   
  
“I don’t know if you should be by yourself,” Artemis said, frowning. “I can go with you. I’ve got plenty of practice without powers, obviously.”   
  
But Robin shook his head. “And leave these guys literally powerless? No way. You stay here. If anything goes wrong when I’m out, it’s your job to get all three of you out of there safely and try to find someplace new to hide. They’ll need your bag of tricks to manage it.” He nodded at Artemis’ quiver, and the number of trick arrows he was sure were still nestled inside.   
  
Wally now looked indignant. “Oh, come on! We don’t need Artemis to _bodyguard_ us, we’re still members of the team even if I can barely out-speed a normal person right now!”   
  
Artemis looked about to respond with something particularly scathing, so Robin was quick to intervene. “Uh-huh,” he drawled, “And _who_ was just complaining about still having a little scratch due to now powers?”   
  
“I...uh...”  
  
“Look, KF. Between the three of you, _who_ has the most experience fighting with _no_ powers at all?”  
  
 _“Well, I—”_  
  
“And _who’s_ the most likely of you all to be targeted in an enemy base set on defeating _iconic people with super-powers?”_  
  
“I mean—”   
  
“That’s right,” Robin finished, smirking and nudging Wally in the arm before he swept to his feet. “Just relax. It won’t be for long. I’ll be in and out as fast as I can.” He glanced at Superboy. “You okay with this?”  
  
Connor looked particularly sullen, and glanced away from all of them before muttering, “Not much choice. I’m already a dead weight on the team right now anyway if you’re doing all this just to figure out how to get me out. S’not like I can have an opinion on the matter.” His voice still chattered slightly, and the cape shifted enough that Robin could tell Superboy was touching gingerly at his injured arm and side. The answer was tinged with so much bitterness that Robin winced.  
  
“It’s not like that SB, seriously,” he insisted. “If you have another idea we can listen. But you’re not dead weight just because you’re powerless, or me and Artemis wouldn’t be on this team, right? You’re definitely worth more than your powers. You just got hurt this time is all. It happens.”   
  
Superboy snorted, and Robin nearly needed super-hearing himself to catch Connor’s nearly-inaudible, “Not to Superman it doesn’t.”   
  
Robin bit his tongue to keep from answering, and mentally reminded himself to talk to Bruce when this was over about Clark still acting like a giant baby regarding his clone. Besides the obvious cruelty to Connor, they really couldn’t afford to have him beating himself up in mid-mission based on how he thought he ought to compare to his ‘father,’ and it was happening more and more often the longer Superman drew this out.   
  
But they couldn’t exactly dig into a heartfelt talk at the moment, and he doubted Superboy would appreciate it anyway, so he did the next best thing, which was throw Wally under the bus. “Everybody gets a real beatdown in a mission sometimes. Man, I remember this one mission when me and Batman were helping Flash and Kid Flash—”  
  
“—oh no you don’t, Rob, not this story _again_ —”  
  
“—and we were chasing down this drug ring, right, and we managed to round most of them up in this one warehouse, but there was a group that was escaping in a car—”  
  
“—seriously man, don’t you have a base to scout—”  
  
“—so KF chased after them, right, and ended up running himself smack into a wall at like sixty miles per hour when they made a sudden turn—”  
  
 _“Rob!”_  
  
“—and he was in the hospital for like three days with a major concussion he gave _himself_. And the escaping dealers nearly came back and ran him over, we totally had to rescue his sorry butt,” Robin concluded with a grin. “So stay whelmed, SB, at least you didn’t shoot _yourself._ ”  
  
“Now _this_ is a story I want to hear in full,” Artemis said, lips twitching upward in a weak but much needed grin as she glanced over at Wally. Connor, too, looked slightly mollified—at least enough not to start stewing in his own seriously hit self-confidence. It was enough to make the annoyed scowl Wally was sending Robin’s way worth it.   
  
“I’ll be back,” he added, more seriously. “Two hours, tops, to check in if nothing else. Promise. Stay out of trouble and stay whelmed.”   
  
“Be careful, man,” Kid Flash said, his scowl shifting to one of concern. “Seriously. No stupid risks. You better come back—none of us want to have that conversation with Batman.”   
  
He could imagine not. “I’ll be fine,” he promised, offering them all one last wave, and ducked back out into the cold.


	4. Chapter 4

Robin moved slowly and carefully at first, but his initial guess had been correct—the guards here were focusing more of their time on searching the interior of the facility, or hunting the outer ring for escapees. They would probably save the center transport hub until last, at which point Robin hoped to have long since vacated it.   
  
For now, however, it made sneaking through the transport grounds a piece of cake, even without his cape for the extra help blending into the snow. He reached the far entrance, waited until he was absolutely certain no one was watching, and slipped back inside the building, tapping his R-insignia to swap back to his classic blacks and reds as he did so. After that it was easy to dart across the hall and meld into a patch of shadow.  
  
 _Now then,_ he thought to himself, as he watched several guards dart by, _what’s the best way to get out of here?_  
  
He started by re-checking his hacks of the security systems at the first security terminal he found. As he expected, clever John Smith had had the foresight to check his cameras and motion sensors and reactivate them. He had also, Robin was displeased to see, added extra lines of code to catch anyone trying to disable said sensors and cameras again.   
  
Those would have to go if Robin was going to get any of them out of here, but after his last digital battle with this particular opponent he was unusually cautious in how he handled it. It wouldn’t do to simply over power the new codes with sheer digital muscle, as it were—this required a level of finesse he hadn’t been required to utilize in quite some time. It took the better part of twenty minutes to do so without tripping any of the man’s little traps, all of which were masterfully designed; it was the virtual equivalent of trying to avoid tripwires made out of a single strand of spider silk.  
  
Which was why he was all the more pleased when he finally managed it, without anything trying to stop him or any alarms going off. He smirked to himself as he disconnected his glove from the terminal, feeling a slight boost to his confidence. “Nice try, Smith,” he murmured, barely audible, under his breath, “But there’s no one who can hack-proof a Bat.”   
  
_But don’t get overconfident,_ he cautioned himself. _You’re not in any position to do that yet._   
  
The next step was finding the most likely route out. Robin darted from shadow to shadow along the first floor of the complex, ready to hide at the first sign of movement. He made a complete circuit slowly and carefully, as he searched for absolutely any weakness in the lockdown that might allow them to escape in one piece. But as far as he could tell, there wasn’t one—the entire complex was still full of activity, like someone had kicked a beehive, and every possible exit was covered by way too many guards. They’d even posted a crew near the hole Robin had blown out of the wall and window, with the men bundled up extra tightly in the cold let in but still frustratingly alert and at the ready.  
  
There was always still a chance that they could target the exit with the least amount of guards and bull rush their way through, of course. Robin had a few batarangs with knockout gas, and Artemis might have a few trick arrows that could help. But there were regular sweeps of patrolling guards as well, and they would certainly notice a crew of passed out guards on the floor, or a suspiciously unguarded door. Robin’s team couldn’t afford that kind of attention. The run out to the exterior fence and the bioship would leave them with no cover, and they could easily be sniped if half a dozen guards noticed them, especially with no bullet-proof Superboy to take the rear as a shield.   
  
_We could try the higher levels and jump down out a window, maybe._ But after slipping his way upstairs and searching half the rooms, he found most of the windows didn’t even open, if they existed at all; there were very few. Blowing a wall open would attract exactly the attention they didn’t want. And the third floor was inaccessible—the single stairwell leading up to it was heavily guarded. No chance of using that level to get out.  
  
 _Scale the building outside, go over, and repel down?_ He had the lines for it, and Artemis probably had at least one. He could probably trust her to do it unobtrusively, but he wasn’t sure Wally or Connor would be able to pull it off without catching any attention...and that was assuming Connor could manage it at all with a busted arm and no super strength. There was no way he was leaving any of them behind, so that idea was out.   
  
_I could always go alone...try to retrieve the Bioship myself and bring it back._ But he still couldn’t guarantee he’d make the trip across that open expanse of snow without being seen and shot. Even if he did, the bioship was at least part a living thing, and Robin wasn’t sure how much damage it could take in a direct assault if he shot into the compound to pick up his friends. And God forbid they had anti-aircraft weaponry stored away in one of their artillery storage warehouses in the lower ring. If they got grounded here without any means of escape, they were doomed.   
  
This wasn’t good. The more he looked at it, the more he wasn’t sure if there _was_ any way to get his team out stealthily and silently, with no further risk to them. This John Smith guy was playing for keeps and smart enough to not underestimate League actions. He was giving no ground and chasing them into a corner. It was a wonder they had even gotten away long enough to hide to begin with, even with Robin’s little distraction technique...  
  
 _Oh, duh!_ Distraction! That was what he needed. If he could find a way to ensure all the guards were somewhere other than where they needed to be for just enough time for them to escape, they might stand a chance of getting out of here.   
  
With an idea in mind, Robin felt some of his confidence returning as he regained control. One of the many rules Batman had ground into him, _always have an escape route_ , now seemed plausible again, and he could make it work with a little planning ahead. They might still have a chance.  
  
 _We hid the bioship in a cluster of trees to the northwest,_ Robin thought. _Best not to set any distractions that way. I think the weakest point of the lockdown was around the eastern exit. If I set charges to the southwest that I can remotely detonate when we’re ready to go, it’ll attract attention that way. We can slip out the eastern side, get out of line of sight while we have the chance, and circle around on the perimeter afterwards._   
  
Robin wasted no further time now that he had a plan. He made his way to the southwestern part of the ringed facility stealthily and silently, circling back down to the first floor as he did so. He was in luck—one of the ground floor storehouses in this area was, all too perfectly, munitions. Set a few charges in here, and half the place would go up in a fireball. The facility’s guards and personnel would be so busy trying to put out the flames and rescue their stores they probably wouldn’t notice his team making an escape. Not to mention it would at least set the enemy back a little, meaning the mission wouldn’t be a _complete_ failure. Less things trying to put holes in the League later would help at least a little.  
  
Robin slipped through the storeroom carefully, planting a number of his explosive discs in strategic areas near crates of live ammo and other goodies that would inevitably make a big ‘boom’ when set off. The discs’ blinking lights were currently switched off, and would not flick on to reveal their location until he was just about to detonate them, making them virtually invisible. The process didn’t go as fast as he liked, due to the need to duck into shadowy corners whenever another circling patrol moved through the room, but after half an hour of work he managed to have his distraction all primed and ready.  
  
 _Pushing my time limit now,_ he thought to himself. His two hours would be up soon and he needed to get back to the team. _At least we’ll be out of here soon._   
  
He slid back out of the storeroom and darted back along the hallways, still keeping a careful eye and ear out for approaching enemies or signs of danger. He was able to avoid the patrols, and had just spotted an exit back into the center transport hub and his friends, when he heard it.  
  
“We need to get this taken care of!”  
  
Robin immediately ducked into the shadowy recesses of the underside of the stairwell he was near, glancing about urgently. The voice had sounded close, and familiar. He recognized the same irritated tone from the intercom announcement just before the weapon had been turned on, but a quick sweep of the hallway showed no approaching guards.  
  
“Calm down. They’re just a bunch of kids. Weak kids at that! What’s to worry about?”  
  
Ah. Above. That’s where the conversation was coming from—the second floor. Robin glanced up uneasily, and then over at the door that would lead to the center courtyard and back to his friends. There was nobody around; it would be the work of seconds to reach the relative safety of the outdoors, and not too long after that to put his plan into motion.   
  
But they were talking about his team, too. He found himself hesitating, remaining nestled back in the safety of the stairwell shadows as he listened.   
  
“Are you an idiot?” The first voice snapped. “Have you _ever_ paid attention to the news? Those are the League’s damn sidekicks! I recognized two of them at least!” There was a _thud_ from above, as though somebody had smacked a wall or perhaps stamped a foot, and the man added, “We need to deal with them immediately or they _will_ become a problem! Come with me.”   
  
“The hell’re we going?” the second voice asked in confusion.   
  
“My office,” the first voice snapped. It already was starting to sound fainter, as if the man was moving away. “I am not discussing this in the open when we have four League brats unaccounted for. Damn it, I should have kept tabs on them as well. I was an idiot for only paying attention to the League!”   
  
Robin was torn, and grimaced in frustration. Batman’s orders and protocol stated he ought to go back to his friends and get the hell out of there, end of story. The insecurity the exercise had gifted him with recently, and his worries about his friends or his poor fit as a leader, agreed. _Don’t be reckless. Don’t be stupid. Don’t put the others in danger because of your dumb decisions, or make calls they don’t even know about,_ that little voice stressed.   
  
But the older Robin, the one from before the exercise, the one that loved fighting for justice, the one with an insatiable curiosity that treated the whole mission like a game, the part that thirsted to prove itself, disagreed. _This could be a golden opportunity,_ it insisted. _Don’t waste it because you’re a coward._   
  
In the end he found himself darting, not towards the doors, but up the stairs, flattening himself into the most shadowy parts of the hall as he moved after his presumed target. Part of him still thought this was a stupid idea—no doubt the others were going to worry when he didn’t come back on time as promised, and he was breaking his promises to both Batman and the rest of his team by deliberately breaking protocol and going outside his scouting parameters. If he got caught, it would almost certainly cost all of them. Robin had never had issues with doing so in the past if he thought he was doing the right thing, or was just frustrated with the League treating them like toddlers. But now that the exercise had shown him what the consequences of those choices could turn out to be it worried him—especially knowing _his_ decisions could hurt his friends so badly.  
  
But that little Robin voice in his head whispered that this was important, too. _They’ll be discussing security, how to deal with us. If I can figure out what they’re doing I can factor it into the escape. I can take the risk and the responsibility for this on my shoulders alone, keep it off them, if I do this here and now. I just can’t get caught._   
  
The last was easier said than done, but Robin was fairly confident in his stealth skills, and he had a reasonable idea of where the targets were heading—the office his team had first broken into when they were originally searching. With that in mind, he diverted into one of the smaller offices they had found previously and fell back on the age-old eavesdropping technique: air vents.  
  
Air vents were trickier than they sounded. For a quick escape, they were ideal, especially for a smaller target versus larger pursuers, a category Robin often fell into. For stealth they actually weren’t as great as they initially sounded—they tended to carry noises and it was too easy to crash about in them. Robin was an expert, however, and managed to pull off one of the grates up near the ceiling and slip in, loosely re-connecting the grate behind him so it wouldn’t draw attention. Even for him it was a bit of a tight squeeze at first, but the vents widened out as he moved, sliding very carefully in the direction of the office.  
  
He stopped halfway, as soon as he heard voices. He was reasonably certain now that Irritable Voice was actually the John Smith he’d been dealing with—the man had already proven himself in that single overheard conversation to be more savvy dealing with League members than usual. He didn’t need to get close enough to see the man, and there was no sense tipping him off that somebody was listening in.   
  
Besides, he could hear well enough. “—tain the third floor at all times,” irritable-voiced John Smith was ordering. “I want a constantly rotating shift to keep the device active, and a second to keep it constantly guarded. Also ensure we are continuing to block any communications. At this point these are our only advantages, and we cannot afford to lose them!”  
  
“Not so sure what you’re worried about, still,” the second voice groused. “Even if they are League kids, they’re still _kids._ And even if they were super-powered kids, well, they aren’t anymore, right? You took their powers away.”  
  
“And certainly I’ve been _most_ pleased to hear reports of successes so far,” Smith said. “The one wearing the S-shield has to have been the new Superboy we’ve seen recently, and the fact that your men were able to shoot him speaks volumes. The other one too—the boy dressed like the Flash who wasn’t as fast as he was betting on. These are good first indicators about the initial successes of my weapon.”  
  
Robin grit his teeth at that. It had been a fleeting and unrealistic hope, to think maybe the enemy might not have noticed.  
  
“But I haven’t had any other test subjects to study, which means I can’t be certain of how strong the effects are, yet,” Smith added. His voice was softer and more muttering now, and it sounded like he was pacing. “The Inhibitor Collar schematics I started with are initially designed to target specific powers. They also don’t work if removed or turned off. I’ve modified the designs to fully blanket all super powers in a much wider radius, but I can’t be certain without getting my hands on a multi-powered test subject if it affects all their abilities one hundred percent, or if it lasts.”   
  
Robin felt his hopes rising a little at that. He knew the answer—it had been fully effective across all abilities—but the enemy didn’t. That was better than nothing.   
  
“I thought you took’em away?” the other voice—head of security, Robin guessed—asked. “That’s what you said before.”  
  
“I said _theoretically_ ,” Smith snapped. “The weapon blocks abilities while active like a collar, but my modifications are much more...shall we say, heavy handed, in its restrictive abilities. In _theory_ , prolonged exposure to the device’s effects may suppress a subject’s special abilities to the point of inaccessibility, even without the device active. Certainly prisoners exposed to the collars long enough find it difficult to get into the habit of using their powers again when lost.”  
  
More shifting. It sounded like Smith was pacing again. “But it’s unclear if this is a psychological or physical result. And if physical, it’s still unclear as to whether the powers have atrophied from disuse or been stripped entirely. There haven’t been enough studies—or test subjects—yet to prove it one way or another.” Sounds of movement stopped, and Smith’s voice raised. “And I _don’t intend to find out with these children,_ which means that weapon _will_ remain active until all _four_ of their corpses are in front of me!”  
  
“Woah, woah, woah, you want us to kill _all_ of them? I thought you’d want us to capture them alive. Haven’t you been bitching all this time about not having any test subjects?”  
  
“Happily, I don’t pay you to think, or this entire operation would have failed from the beginning,” Smith said. There was an acidic edge to his tone as he spoke. “They’ve already tested for us. It’s satisfactory enough to know my weapon _works_. Showing my potential customers several formerly super-powered _corpses_ will be sufficient enough for entice them, and after that I am sure we can work out a deal for them to supply me with fresh testing matter. I will _not_ risk compromising this deal trying to bring them in alive when a bullet to the head will be just as effective in stopping them!”  
  
“Okay, okay, geez. I’ll issue kill on sight orders to my men right away. Still don’t get why you’re getting so worked up over this, though. We’re already winning! At this rate I’ll be getting my big-ass paycheck and you’ll be able to join this injustice league or whatever it is you want easy.”  
  
Robin frowned at that. The Injustice League had been disbanded not even a full month ago, and most of its members thrown in Belle Reve prison. It sounded as though these people believed they were still active, though...and that the unknown buyer was connected.  
  
Smith made a scoffing noise. “Join them? Absolutely not. The so-called ‘Injustice League’ was a farce, a collection of idiots thinking themselves grand enough to go against the Justice League. They are utterly unimportant. These people I intend to deal with? These are the big wigs, the _real_ dangerous players. These are the kind of people you do not want to cross. I want to be on their good side without being under their thumb, and that means this needs to go _perfectly_ so I can prove I’m a significant power to them without becoming their enemy.”  
  
Robin’s frown grew deeper. He knew Batman had been wondering if the Injustice League was truly finished, but Batman was always suspicious of something...it looked like this confirmed it. There was a stronger power behind the scenes than they had first realized. If nothing else, he had something useful he could report back to Batman later...assuming they escaped, and lived that long.  
  
“Fine, okay, fine!” the second voice snapped, drawing his attention back to the conversation. “I’ll take care of it. I can take a friggin’ hint. Kill on sight orders, active guards, keep the weapon going so its effects don’t stop. Anything else, _boss?_ ”   
  
There was a distinct edge of irritation to the security head’s voice. The guy wasn’t an expert on the League, but Robin didn’t think he was as stupid as Smith made out, and there was clearly no love lost between them. _Probably mercenaries,_ Robin guessed. _Some kind of private military contractor hired for this job. The guards we overheard earlier were talking about ‘the boss’s contract.’ Smith’s got brains and strategy, but not muscle. Might explain why none of us recognized the guard insignia or uniforms._   
  
“Just to get to work already!” Smith snapped. “I want those kids found and killed before the buyer’s representative comes tomorrow, which means I can’t have you slacking off. _Go!_ ”  
  
There was a thud of boots as the head of security left, accompanied by the slam of a door. Robin remained perfectly still, unwilling to make any noise, and was rewarded for his patience. The distant click of keys told him Smith hadn’t exited yet. The man was muttering too low under his breath for Robin to make out any distinct words at first, but after a few minutes he finally said, “Good. Still secure.” The click of keys stopped, followed by more footsteps and another door opening and closing, and there was silence.   
  
Robin waited five minutes to be absolutely sure he was alone, before rearranging himself into a crouched sit in the duct and flicking on his glove computer. He suspected Smith was paranoid enough to re-check his security again, but Robin didn’t see any of his safeguards or warnings triggered, which meant his hack was still secure.   
  
Relieved, Robin turned his attention to the next immediate problem: everything he’d overheard.   
  
_Inhibitor Collars,_ Robin thought in disbelief. _KF and SB’s powers disappeared because this place is one giant souped-up Inhibitor Collar!_ That would explain the perfectly circular ring shape of the building, and might even be the purpose of the strange pylons they had seen along the security fence at the very edge of the complex’s grounds. Somehow, this Smith guy had been clever enough to figure out not only how to extend the distance of the collars’ powers, but also to remove the necessity of coding each specific collar for a specific person’s powers.   
  
_That would sell for millions on the black market,_ Robin thought grimly. _Have one of these active around your complex and more than half the League would be unable to stop you. No need to code for who you’re expecting either if it’s a blanket effect over all powers. That negates the need for so much time and research, and the risk that somebody’s keeping an ability close to their chest, or that a newcomer could come in and ruin everything._   
  
The good news was that there _might_ be a chance KF and SB could get their powers back, if they could just deactivate the device. Hell, Connor had even worn one of the collars for a few days during the Belle Reve infiltration mission and his suppressed super strength had been just fine. If this current device operated exactly like a much larger Inhibitor Collar, they just had to interfere with, turn off, or destroy the weapon and they were golden.   
  
Easier said than done, though. Robin thought he had a better idea of where the weapon _was_ —Smith had mentioned the third floor when giving his orders, and Robin still hadn’t been able to get up there due to the heavy guard. Knowing where it was didn’t help him disable it, though. And that was assuming the device _did_ operate purely like an Inhibitor Collar. Smith hadn’t been able to verify it with research, but so far his theories had been spot on, and if he theorized that the weapon might eradicate powers completely...  
  
Robin brought up another screen on his glove and flicked through what reports he could find on the collars and their use on super-powered individuals. The results were exactly as Smith had claimed: long-term individuals with abilities suppressed by inhibitor collars often found it difficult, if not impossible, to get into the habit of using them again after prolonged exposure. There was no explanation as to why just yet, and theories ranging from psychological prevention of ability usage to a ‘you don’t use it, you lose it’ physical atrophy of powers had been suggested. None had been proven. And that was just for standard Inhibitor Collars only intended to block, not remove, abilities. Smith, by his own admission, had made his invention far more invasive, damaging, and far reaching. Who know what his weapon was capable of?   
  
_This thing has to go down tonight,_ Robin realized. _He said ‘prolonged exposure’ was likely to cause it, but we have no idea how long ‘prolonged exposure’ is. It could be years, months, days, or just a few solid hours. The longer KF and SB are exposed, the less chance they have at getting better._   
  
And this wasn’t just something he could brush off. He had seen how badly it had hurt both Wally and Connor to lose their super powers—in essence, a core part of themselves. He couldn’t let them stay that way. Nor could he risk running and letting the rest of the League potentially be exposed to this weapon, not if it had a very realistic potential to be so devastating.   
  
But he couldn’t put the team at risk either. It was still the same problem as before—running or fighting, half his team was down with injury or simply weaker, and the other half couldn’t afford to baby-sit for something as dangerous as this.   
  
_But I could do it alone,_ he realized. _By myself I might have a better shot. And it’ll be dangerous either way—better to risk one than four._   
  
He closed his eyes. Saw M’gann’s horrified stare when he decided to use Connor as bait. Saw Connor hopelessly outnumbered against thousands of enemy alien ships. Saw Wally’s betrayed look when he realized he’d been manipulated into an assault he hadn’t known the real goal for. Saw J’onn’s knowing, grim look when he ordered the martians to run, lied about how they’d follow. Saw the flames erupt around him as he burned, knowing _at least he’d won._   
  
Saw nothing, and knew how hollow his victory had been, dragging his friends to their deaths for the good of the world.   
  
_Yeah. Better one than four._   
  
He was tempted to go now, but a quick glance at his glove’s time readout told him he was already twenty minutes overdue for returning to the others. They’d be frantic, and with the panic everybody had been in already, it meant they would probably do something stupid to blow their cover. Especially Kid Flash, who’d been known to go searching for Robin before in covert missions.   
  
_Stop by the team. Come up with an excuse to go back out alone. Fix this mess._   
  
He slid carefully out of the air vent, replacing the grate to avoid alerting anyone of his presence there. The hallway was blessedly empty for the moment, and he ducked back down it unseen, slipping past offices that gradually turned once again into dorms. The guards were all out and about, presumably hunting for the four missing kids so as to put a bullet or twenty in their heads, and Robin mostly didn’t pay them any interest. Mostly. But as he shot by one, he skidded to a stop for a quick double take, and despite the seriousness of the situation he couldn’t help but smirk a little.  
  
 _Okay. One little detour._ Then _the team.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

It was another fifteen minutes later that Robin finally managed to slip unseen around the  corner of the transport container he’d last left the team in. He picked at the awkward container door with his free hand, and was met, once again, with an extremely pointy arrow about two inches from his nose.  
  
“Artemis,” he said solemnly, “I like you and all, but we have _really_ got to stop meeting like this.”  
  
“Robin!” she said, surprised, and hastily dropped the point of the arrow to face a small snowdrift. “Get in, hurry!”  
  
He shifted past her as she shouldered the door open a little wider for him, and stepped inside. He was almost immediately assaulted by Kid Flash, who gripped his upper arms and managed to barely restrain from shrieking, “Rob, where the hell have you _been?_ You were supposed to be back over half an hour ago, you scared the crap out of us!”   
  
“We thought you’d been caught,” Artemis agreed, looking grim. She’d released the tension on her bow now, but still left the pointy arrow nocked. “I was just about to head out and try to find you.”  
  
“Which is _exactly_ why I came back,” Robin said, forcing some amusement into his voice. “I figured you guys’d be getting worried. Told you to stay traught, didn’t I? I got this.”   
  
“Then where’ve you _been?_ ” Kid Flash asked, indignant. His voice sounded marginally better, less raspy after his near strangling, although still not as great as it should be.  
  
“Made a detour for something,” Robin said nonchalantly, hefting the burden under one arm forward. “I broughtcha a present, SB. Hope it fits.”  
  
“It” was a stolen winter camo jacket, purloined from one of the guards’ rooms. Robin had gotten the biggest size he could find and hoped it would work out, although it had been a bit difficult to lug back without being seen. He’d almost been caught twice trying to hide a white-and-blue toned jacket in the middle of the facility, which was why it had taken him so long to get back.  
  
Now he was sure the risk was worth it, though. Connor did not look well at all. He was still shivering, which wasn’t great, but at least meant his body was still trying to regulate its temperature. It looked like Artemis and Wally had tried to keep him moving periodically to generate a little extra warmth, based on the tracks in the dusty floor, or had been staying near him to keep him warm that way too. But he looked more lethargic than usual, and it took him a second to register that Robin was even speaking to him. He was curled up as much as possible beneath Robin’s cape, and it was probably only that advanced Bat-tech insulation that had kept him from nosediving straight into severe hypothermia at all.  Between that, his injuries, and his complete lack of powers, he looked the most miserable he’d ever been in his short seven months of life.   
  
Superboy blinked once slowly at him, and then said blankly, “Present?”  
  
 _Lack of cognitive function is a potential symptom of even mild hypothermia,_ Robin thought grimly. _Got to get him out of here. Or at least get his invulnerability back._ Out loud, he said cheerfully, “Sure. This nice, warm coat. Give it a try, huh?”   
  
Connor didn’t seem to follow the entire sentence, but he did latch on to the word ‘warm’ like a particularly starving leech, and reached immediately for the item in Robin’s hands with his good arm. “Give it.”   
  
In the end he needed help from both Robin and Kid Flash to get the jacket on, both due to his frozen, uncooperative limbs as well as to ease it on over his injuries. Robin also plucked the gloves and hat he’d stolen and stuffed in one of the pockets free and helped him fit those on as well. Connor was disturbingly compliant with their assistance—if he’d been on top of his game, he would have been complaining foully about needing help at all.   
  
Once wrapped up in clothing better designed for such a cold setting, however, he seemed to feel a little better. He flexed his frozen hands in the new gloves with a wince to get the feel back into them, and after several minutes he finally muttered glumly, “I hate cold. It sucks.”   
  
“Like I said before, welcome to the club,” Robin said, not unsympathetically. He swept his cape back around his shoulders and clipped it back into place with a satisfactory little _click._ The weight of the fabric around his shoulders again was almost more comforting than the little bit of extra warmth it provided. “That should at least make you feel a little better and get some warmth back into you. Might be a good idea to look into updating your polar stealth in the future, though.”   
  
_Especially if it turns out you’re stuck like this,_ he thought, but didn’t say. There was still a decent chance their powers would come back just fine, if what he overheard was correct.  
  
“It’s great you found that for Supey,” Kid Flash said, giving Robin a skeptical look, “but you didn’t take that much extra time for a coat. What kept you?”  
  
Robin considered just how much to tell them. He didn’t want to get them too involved in deactivating the weapon—he had to protect them, and that meant handling the situation himself. Telling them too much might put them in danger, but not telling them enough might prevent them from reacting, too.  
  
 _A strong lie is one with a foundation in truth,_ Batman always said, when coaching him in misdirection and undercover work. He used the premise here. “I got held up when I overheard some intel on this weapon,” he answered, truthfully enough. “The guy’s clever—he built it using Inhibitor Collar schematics, except he figured out how to make it work on all powers.”  
  
“A giant Inhibitor Collar?” Kid Flash said incredulously, looking affronted. Beside him, Superboy scowled, and looked as though he had been personally insulted somehow.   
  
“Could explain the shape of the place,” Artemis said thoughtfully, coming to the same conclusion Robin had. “And those weird pylons we saw when we first broke through their outer security...could be a way to spread whatever it is further, if they’re receivers or something.”  
  
“Funny, I had the same thought,” Robin said, flashing a grin. “More importantly, if it works the same way the regular collars do—”  
  
“—it means if we take’em off, we get our powers back!” Kid Flash finished the thought for him, looking excited. “Or, well, I guess in this case get outside the collar. Ring. Whatever. Still!”  
  
“Will that really work?” Superboy asked, giving Robin a hopeful glance.  
  
“When we escape we’ll find out,” Robin answered. It was a deliberate dodge of the question, and he hoped none of them caught it. Best to let them think it was guaranteed for now; it would give them a more positive attitude in the escape, and a goal to strive for. Assuming Smith’s overclocked giant Inhibitor Collar _did_ really permanently suppress powers, it would be safer to find out beyond the complex’s walls in the bioship, and if it didn’t, then it was a moot point anyway.   
  
“Anyway, that’s what I came back to report about,” Robin added quickly, before anyone had long enough to dwell on the answer. “Still working on breaking us out. I’ve scouted the whole complex and I think I’ve got a solution—the easternmost exit is the least heavily guarded. I think if I set a distraction, we can draw attention away from that long enough to break out, run across the outer grounds, and get out. Then we can circle around to the bioship and get the heck out of here.   
  
“Still need to find a suitable place for a distraction, though. Ran out of time,” he admitted, with a touch of frustration that was not at all faked—unlike his words. “So here’s the plan. I’m heading back out now. I’ll set some charges to blow, get to a safe place, and set’em off. I’ll try to make it back here first, but security’s pretty tight in there—I may need to set them off before then to distract them away from me, too. So as soon as you hear the explosions, make for the east entrance—that’s an order. Artemis, you’re in charge, make sure these guys get there in one piece. Break out, circle around, and meet at the bioship. I’ll meet you there.”  
  
He fully intended to, too, if things went the way he was planning. He was determined to take out this weapon personally, and he knew it would be dangerous, but that didn’t mean he was turning it into a suicide mission if he could avoid it. He just wanted to be absolutely certain that his friends would be clear, whether or not his side-mission worked out.  
  
He glanced around at the others. “Everyone clear?”  
  
The three of them exchanged glances. None of them looked entirely convinced. After a moment, Artemis said, “You’re not meeting back up with us at all before the ship? How do we know you haven’t been captured or anything if we’re out there?”  
  
Robin smirked. “Guys, this is me we’re talking about. I just came back now, didn’t I? And I already did the distraction thing once earlier and showed up again, too. I’ve got this, so stay whelmed. I promise I can handle my part as long as you focus on yours: escaping. Got it?”  
  
“Got it,” Superboy stated bluntly. “Not believing it, though.”  
  
Robin blinked. It took him every scrap of self control to maintain his confident smirk. “Look, I know you guys aren’t used to fighting without powers, but I’m sure with a distraction you guys can make it out—”  
  
“Rob,” Kid Flash said, waving a hand in exasperation, “I lost my powers, not my smarts. You can’t really expect us to buy into this, can you? I mean, come on. Give us some credit here!”  
  
“There’s nothing to buy into,” Robin shot back. “We’re escaping. That’s the plan, just like I said before.”  
  
“I’ve known you for years, Rob. Enough to know when you’re not telling the whole truth,” Kid Flash snapped.  
  
Robin barely fought down a hissing retort of _No you don’t, or you would have picked up on it in the exercise too!_ It wouldn’t help matters any, and anyway, Kid Flash had been under a lot of stress in that exercise too after the death of all their friends—especially Artemis.   
  
“Tell me you aren’t going to do something stupid while you have us out there running away with our tails between our legs,” Kid Flash finished, crossing his arms. “I’m all ears.”   
  
“Fine,” Robin said, voice grating. _We do not have time for this!_ “I’m not going to do something stupid while you’re _escaping like Batman ordered us to do._ ”  
  
“Wow,” Kid Flash drawled. “I call bull on that.”  
  
“I’m with him on this one,” Artemis agreed, eyes narrowing. “This doesn’t sound right.”  
  
“Agreed,” Superboy said. “What I want to know is why _he_ thinks this is a good order.”  
  
“Fine!” Robin snapped. “Fine. You want to know my motives? I may have a lead on how to finish this weapon off. But it’ll be dangerous. _Really_ dangerous. So _that’s_ what I’ll be doing while _you_ three get to safety, just like in our original plan. Happy?” He sure wasn’t. That they were fighting him so hard on this meant he hadn’t been doing nearly as good a job concealing his feelings on this as he thought.  
  
“You expect us to be _happy_ about that?” Artemis said incredulously. “You’re going to put yourself in a situation you even admit is dangerous without any backup, and you expect us to just accept that?”  
  
“Hell no, Rob,” Kid Flash snapped, shaking his head. “No way are you punting us to the side on this. Sorry we’re not _good enough_ for you now that we don’t have powers—”  
  
“That’s not it,” Robin said, frustrated. “You know that’s not why I’m keeping you guys out of the mission.”  
  
“Is it because I’m injured?” Superboy asked, sounding a mix of bitter and angry. “I don’t care _how_ cold it is here or how many times they shoot me. I’m not weak. I can still hold my own if I have to. I’m not going to hold you back—”  
  
“I’m not saying you would!” Robin said. This was getting out of hand, fast. He suddenly knew how Aqualad had felt, when everybody ganged up on him for hiding the details about the team mole.   
  
“Then what _is_ your reason?” Artemis pressed, eyes narrowed. “What _possible_ reason could you have for putting yourself on track for a suicide mission, hiding the truth from us, and trying to trick us into leaving you behind, huh?”  
  
“Because I’m not going to send anybody else to their deaths again!” Robin yelled.   
  
There was a stunned, tense silence as everyone processed that. Robin had surprised himself at his own outburst, and how much control he had lost in that one moment. He realized belatedly that he’d raised his voice, and thanked his lucky stars there had been no guards prowling in the frigid transport hub outside to hear him. He’d also lost his cool, and not only dropped any pretense of the calm, cocky, in control facade he’d been tenuously maintaining since the mission first went south, but had also revealed his insecurities and fears to his entire team. He’d also just blatantly admitted to manipulating them, even if it had been for their own good. So much for having a trustworthy, reliable leader to look up to.  
  
 _Knew I wasn’t meant to be in charge,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _I screw up every mission I command._   
  
The three of them looked like they didn’t know how to react. Artemis looked startled by Robin’s outburst, but also a little confused. That made sense, in a way—in the exercise she’d been the first to die, and hadn’t seen all the messed up, twisted things Robin had done once he gained control of the team. Superboy and Kid Flash had more knowing expressions on their faces, mingled with the surprise. They’d been first hand victims to Robin’s win-at-all-cost tactics, and had been some of the lives Robin had sacrificed so easily.   
  
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to any of them, not again.   
  
They still hadn’t said anything, and all three were still staring at him, looking shocked. Robin grimaced, and said a little more softly, “Look, guys, I—I really screwed up the last time I was on point, okay? And you guys are all not doing so well at the moment. KF and SB are down their powers and Artemis is out half her ammo, all because of bad calls I made. I can maybe still finish off this mission, but it’s risky, and...I’m not making _those_ calls again, okay? I’m not sending anybody else to their deaths because I have to sacrifice _everything_ for the mission. That’s not _me_. So yeah, I omitted the truth. I’m going alone after this thing. And I wanted to trick you into staying safe. You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure everybody gets out of this _alive_.”  
  
The three were still silent for a moment. Then, surprisingly, it was Superboy who broke the silence first. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
“Woah, Supey,” Kid Flash said, raising his hands. “I agree with you, but there’s no reason to go slinging insults, so how about we just shut up a minute—”  
  
“No, _you_ shut up,” Superboy said, scowling at Kid Flash. Even without powers, injured, and half frozen, Connor could still pull off an impressive angry glare, and Wally snapped his mouth shut.   
  
Satisfied, Superboy turned his glare on Robin. “You’re an idiot,” he repeated. “I get the exercise messed with you. It made me think about stuff I didn’t want to think about, too. But what you did in there? Whatever it was, it wasn’t _sending us to our deaths_.”  
  
“I used you as _bait_ ,” Robin said. It hurt to admit it out loud, to Connor and in front of the others no less, but it had to be said.   
  
“Did you force me to do it at Kryptonite-point?” Connor snapped back. “Did you _literally_ throw me in front of those alien ships and run? No. You made a call, but _I_ agreed to follow it.”   
  
There was a note of challenge to his voice, as if he was just _daring_ Robin to disagree. Robin felt like he’d been sucker punched. Then again, it did feel like a strangely _Superboy_ think to say. He still remembered when they first dug him out of Cadmus. _Don’t you give me orders, either_ , he’d growled then. Connor valued his ability to choose above everything else, and if he felt _forced_ into anything, he’d dig in his heels on principle.   
  
“He’s got a point, Rob,” Kid Flash said, smirking for a moment, before his demeanor sobered. “None of us are out here against our will. We’re all here because we agreed to be, even knowing the risks. Even in the exercise, we did the same thing. You had to make some rough calls in that—I don’t think I could’ve done that. And maybe I didn’t agree with everything, but I don’t blame you for my, uh, death.” He shuddered slightly.   
  
“Yeah? ‘Cause I didn’t see it that way,” Robin said, voice soft. “You didn’t even know what you were getting into in that final attack. Neither of you did.”  
  
“Then _tell_ us, Rob,” Kid Flash said. “That exercise is done and you can’t change it. Believe me, I wish we could! But if you’re really _that_ scared of making the same mistakes, then change something up! Make sure we know what we’re going in for and _have_ all the facts. You gotta trust us a little with the basics here if we’re gonna help at all.”  
  
 _They don’t even trust us with the basics!_ Robin recalled Wally yelling in frustration, back on the day they’d first broken into Cadmus. They’d railed against the League for keeping details from them, and now he’d done the same thing. And, worse, he’d repeated his mistake, desperately trying to manipulate his friends into doing what he thought best for them and for the mission.   
  
“I wasn’t around for all the stuff you’re talking about,” Artemis cut in on his thoughts, arms crossed, “but I _do_ know this is a team. And one of the things _you_ taught me was that this is a group effort. When somebody’s in trouble, you save them. That’s how it works...remember? That doesn’t just go for rescues, _Boy Wonder._ It means you don’t go into danger alone, no matter how good you think your reasons are. You need us, too. All for one and one for all. This isn’t a solo act.”   
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, and Robin caught the additional message there, too. _You can’t stay ‘traught’ forever. It’s okay to need a little help from us sometimes. You backed me up enough that I can return the favor._  
  
And what she’d said... _this isn’t a solo act._ She was right. It wasn’t. He’d been so single-minded on keeping his team safe and secure, manipulating them and hiding things from them and taking all the work and the danger on his shoulders, that he’d completely lost the point of _having_ a team to begin with. God, he was no worse than the League...  
  
No, no worse than _Batman._ He’d been trying so hard to avoid being _that_ part of Batman, the cold, ruthlessly efficient part that sacrificed everything and _anything_ for the sake of his mission. In doing so, he’d backed himself into another aspect of Batman: the disconnected, uncaring loner, the part that tried to do and handle everything himself and didn’t trust anyone else to handle themselves or the situation well or at all.  
  
The part Robin had been responsible for taming by nature of his very existence. The part that Robin directly _opposed_ in Batman. The part that was also—just like the ruthlessly efficient and mission-oriented Batman—very, definitively, not him.   
  
_What have I been_ doing _to myself?_ Robin realized, stunned. Somehow in all his fears of inadvertently causing his friends very real danger and death, he’d never stopped to consider the damage he’d been causing _himself._ It had taken his friends to open his eyes—and even in a terrible situation, outnumbered, de-powered, cold and wounded, they had done it anyway.   
  
He suddenly felt strangely touched by their words, and the very real evidence that they cared enough to not run away and shake him out of his stupor. _I’m damned lucky to have friends like this_ , he realized.   
  
Now he just had to make sure they all got out of here in one piece.   
  
They were still staring at him intently, all three of them. Robin swallowed, and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath trying to focus. When he felt in control again, he opened his eyes to look around at the three of them and said, “You’re right. Sorry, guys.”  
  
“That’s it?” Wally said, incredulous. “No snappy comebacks, no reasons you’re right and we’re wrong?”  
  
“I know it doesn’t happen all that often, KF, but when you’re right, you’re right,” Robin said, smirking a little—and to his amazement, it was the first smirk in a while that didn’t feel forced for the sake of his team.   
  
“Hey!” Kid Flash said indignantly, crossing his arms again. “You help a bro out and this is the thanks you get...”  
  
Artemis snorted at that, and even Connor managed a weak smile. Robin glanced back at them and addressed all three more seriously. “Look, I wasn’t expecting to get slapped with the leader role right away, and that exercise...well, it made me think a lot. I didn’t want to put you guys at risk or get you killed, especially not by deliberately putting you in harm’s way just to complete the mission. But...I guess I’ve been going about it the wrong way. You’re right...I can’t do this all by myself either, and I need to remember to trust you guys, too. You’re not mindless little robots. You’re fully capable partners and teammates...powers or no.”   
  
He nodded at Superboy and Kid Flash for the last part. Kid Flash grinned a little, and Superboy grunted slightly in acknowledgement.   
  
Artemis, looking determined, placed one hand on her hip and said, “That’s great that you remembered we’re not just here for show, and I bet we can have a big heart to heart about it and that stupid mind game after. For now, as somebody once told me, we need to stay traught. We’re behind enemy lines with a mission to complete. So what do we do next?”  
  
Robin nodded. She was right, and they needed to get back on track. “First thing’s first,” he said. “Wally was right—if this is going to work well at all, I need to give you all the facts, not just the ones that convince you to do what I want you to.” They listened intently as he sketched out everything he’d seen and heard during his scouting mission—the already planted charges, the information about the weapon, and the hints that there might be somebody bigger behind the scenes that this buyer was connected to.  
  
“For now, we focus on the weapon,” Robin concluded. “Once we get out of here, we can report the additional intel about the Injustice League and the buyer’s potential employers to the League, but that doesn’t help us right now.”  
  
The others nodded in agreement. “We know where this weapon is at, at least,” Wally said. “Or at least where the controls for it are stored. Mystery floor three.”  
  
“Makes sense, but still risky,” Artemis pointed out. “Sounds like this Smith guy has the place really well guarded. Even if we blow the decoy charges, it won’t make getting onto that floor and near that weapon any easier.”  
  
“Which is why I wanted to tackle it solo,” Robin admitted. “Better to risk one than four. I know better than that now,” he added, at all three’s angry glares, “but I’m just saying, it’s still risky. Besides—like I was saying, Smith’s goal with this machine was to permanently strip or forcibly atrophy powers. Any kind of attack would leave us bottlenecked and would largely hinge on SB or KF getting their powers back to get out, and we’re not sure that would even happen. It’s a big gamble to take.”   
  
“Bigger than letting this machine get distributed and used against the entire League?” Superboy countered. “If this weapon really _can_ do that, better for us to take it down now than let it get out there and mess up the Justice League. I mean, I’m living proof that you can’t replace Superman.”   
  
The edge of bitterness in his voice was largely smothered by his determination and anger. Robin was impressed—for all the miscommunication between Connor and his unwilling donor, he was still trying to protect Superman. Maybe he really had matured.   
  
“Besides, you can’t count us out completely,” Kid Flash added. “If we can get in, we can get out, even if we don’t get our powers back. Me and Supey still know basic combat thanks to Black Canary, we just can’t put extra speed or strength behind it. And this Smith guy’s banking on science that hasn’t even been proven yet. How can he create a machine to strip our powers completely if he’s not even sure how or why it happens? There’s still a good chance we can get them back, if this thing is really like a giant Inhibitor Collar. Might be a gamble, but I think the odds are still in our favor.”  
  
“And we’ve still got you and me,” Artemis added, pointing at herself and Robin. “We’re not relying on powers. I’m sure both of us could engineer a way out if we had to.”  
  
“Sounds like you’re all in favor of going after the weapon over running,” Robin said, glancing around at the three of them. “Even if it’s really dangerous, you’re all familiar with the risks, and it could get us trapped or dead. Right?”  
  
All three nodded, looking grim but determined.  
  
Robin broke into a grin—and once again, it felt right. He felt like himself again. “Great,” he said. “As long as we’re all clear on the risks...I think I’ve got a plan to get us in there with minimal injuries. Here’s what we’ll do...”


	6. Chapter 6

It was over two hours later before they moved out.   
  
They had actually finished their planning long before that, but Robin had pushed to wait a little, and the others agreed with his reasoning. For one, the longer they weren’t found, the more lax the guards were likely to get when they realized their search was quickly becoming useless. For another, the extra time allowed full darkness to settle in, and while that made it significantly colder outside, it also gave them more cover to move into position.   
  
But when go time came, all of them were ready. They slipped out of their hiding place and made their careful way towards the northern entrance back into the facility—as near as Robin could tell, the closest they could get to the single stairwell to floor three. They moved as stealthily as possible, knowing the entire strike’s success largely fell on how long they could remain unnoticed.   
  
Robin took the lead. He was careful to create a route through the snowy transport hub that would be the easiest for his Team to manage, while still offering protection in the dark and the shadows, avoiding the lights set up around the central compound. Kid Flash came next, hovering close to Superboy, just in case he had difficulty with the thick snowdrifts while injured or in the cold. Superboy was managing surprisingly well now, however, largely thanks to the winter wear Robin had been able to provide. He was still in pain from his injuries, but at least no longer on the verge of hypothermia. Artemis came last, providing backup cover and taking care of their tracks.   
  
Because the central transport courtyard was so large, it took close to twenty minutes to get the full group in position. They crouched against the wall of the facility near the entrance, and Robin waited a moment to give them (more specifically, Superboy) a chance to rest. After a moment, he muttered low enough that it would only be picked up by their short-range communicators, _“Everyone ready?”_  
  
 _“Yes.”_  
  
 _“Ready.”_  
  
 _“You got it, Rob.”_  
  
Robin nodded, and tapped a few keys on his computer glove. Within seconds, there was a rumbling _boom_ to the southwest, and the night sky lit up in a massive cloud of smoke and flames as Robin’s pre-set charges—and all the live ammo with them—exploded.   
  
“That’s one hell of a fireworks display,” Kid Flash commented, with a low whistle.  
  
“Too bad they probably won’t thank us for it,” Artemis said.   
  
It didn’t take long for the facility’s inhabitants to react. Within seconds, a loud, blaring alarm began to sound, drowning out the white noise of the weapon and causing all of them to wince. The shouting started moments later, and all of them could hear many sets of heavy, booted footfalls thundering through the hallway just through the doors they were waiting next to. Cries of “What happened?” and “Intruders! Attack!” filled the air. It was chaos, and it was perfect; exactly what they’d been going for.  
  
Robin held up his hand to the others as they tensed, ready to move. _“Hold on,”_ he muttered, and pressed his ear to the wall. It was freezing, but made it easier to track movements and noises. There were plenty of vibrations and angry yells, but they were rapidly getting farther away, heading for the still burning—and occasionally still exploding—destroyed armory storage unit.   
  
_“Okay, go,”_ he hissed, when he was sure there was no one immediately present on the other side of the door. He cracked it open and bolted inside with several throwing discs at the ready, in case he’d misjudged and there were enemies waiting on the other side.  
  
They weren’t—he’d judged right. The others piled in through the door behind him, and he pointed at the stairs just up the way. “Like we talked about,” he said softly.  
  
They bolted for the stairs up to the second floor, but not as a group. Robin melded as much into the shadows as he could, tapping his chest to once again slip back into his regular reds and blacks. On the opposite side of the hallway, Artemis did the same thing, also melting into stealth colors.   
  
Kid Flash and Superboy didn’t bother to hide. Wally stayed in his polar whites, while Superboy kept his pilfered jacket, hat and gloves on. Instead, Connor placed his good arm on one of Wally’s, who had his wrists together behind his back, as though he’d been handcuffed. They moved down the hall at a fast pace, but to anybody not looking too closely, it would appear that one of the guards had managed to catch Kid Flash and was hustling him forward for something.   
  
This had been Robin’s idea. He had realized early on that in any assault it would be almost impossible to fully hide Superboy, who was both injured and vulnerable as well as powerless. Kid Flash, also used to relying heavily on his powers for remaining unnoticed, might be able to pull it off but was still likely to make mistakes, prone as he was to rushing into things. Both would be first targets if they were caught, and not easy to protect. Instead, Robin had opted to hide them in plain sight—make it so obvious they were there that it was overlooked.   
  
He just hoped it worked, or Connor and Wally would be the first victims in this crazy assault.  
  
They made it up the stairs without incident, but almost as soon as they rounded the corner onto the second floor, they came across a pair of soldiers. Both immediately raised their guns, pointing at Kid Flash. “Freeze!”  
  
“Hold it!” Superboy barked, his tone commanding. “Stand down, this is my prisoner!”  
  
Surprisingly, it worked. Robin had to give Connor credit where it was due—he could be a convincing actor when he wanted to be, like during the Terror Twins incident. He sounded confident enough, and his voice was deep enough, that the guards hesitated and dropped the tips of their weapons towards the floor.   
  
“Prisoner?” One of them asked, confused.  
  
“Yes,” Superboy said, rolling with it. He shook Kid Flash once, and Wally had the sense to pretend to stumble slightly, looking dazed. “I caught him sneaking around after that blast. Boss said we need test subjects. Figure we can use this one.”  
  
The first soldier looked convinced, but the second narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Hold on, our orders changed to kill on sight. So what are—”  
  
He never got the chance to finish his question. Artemis hit him from the side, sweeping out her leg in a powerful kick that took the man in the stomach. The guard cut off with a pained _“Glgh!”_ and before he could recover further, Artemis hit him with a second kick to the head. The man crashed to the ground, unconscious.  
  
His partner didn’t fare any better. Robin also hit him from the side, sweeping out of the shadows to level a kick at the man’s weapon, disarming him. When the soldier turned in surprise to see what was attacking, Robin swept around, leapt onto the man’s back, and put him in a careful stealth chokehold like he’d practiced with Batman dozens of times. The man gurgled in surprise, but collapsed underneath him fairly quickly. Robin released him as soon as the man went unconscious, before the grip had a chance of turning fatal.  
  
“Nice move, guys,” Kid Flash said, grinning. “They didn’t know what hit’em!”  
  
Both he and Superboy were already next to them. Kid Flash helped them haul up the two unconscious guards and drag them, while Superboy found the nearest empty room—a dormitory—and opened the door with his good hand. They shoved the guards inside, tossed their guns in a separate room, and closed both doors. Instantly, it was like their was never any confrontation.  
  
“Good work, keep going,” Robin ordered, as he and Artemis both slipped back into the shadows. “We’re wasting time.”  
  
The technique worked twice more with two other small groups of guards, and both times Superboy and Kid Flash were able to bluff their enemies long enough for Robin and Artemis to take them out from up close. Not only did it keep them from getting injured, but it allowed Artemis and Robin to conserve their ammo—because they would definitely need it by the time they were done.   
  
They were nearly at the stairwell leading up to the third floor when their luck finally ran out. A group of four guards posted at the stairs spotted the ‘soldier’ and his ‘prisoner’ running towards them, and immediately leveled their guns.   
  
“Halt!” Superboy ordered, as he had before. “This is my prison—”  
  
He didn’t even get to finish before the men opened fire. With a yelp, Kid Flash spun and managed to tackle Superboy to the floor, out of range of the first hail of bullets. Robin hastily let fly with several throwing discs, disarming two of the guards as Artemis did the same with the other pair and her arrows. Bullets disabled—at least temporarily—Robin leapt at the nearest of the soldiers, and Artemis did the same.  
  
Even as Robin launched at his first opponent, he was alarmed to see the remaining two—gunless or not—charging for Wally and Connor. “They’ve got no powers, kill’em!” one howled, drawing a long bladed knife from the sheathe on his waist. The other, without a knife at his disposal, went after the much smaller target of Kid Flash.  
  
“Look out!” Robin yelled.  
  
Wally and Connor were just rolling to their feet, and glanced up in alarm as their attackers bore down on them. Wally immediately kicked out at his opponent, tripping the soldier up, but the man was a professional and immediately used his superior weight to crash down on the grounded teen. Wally grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, but managed to roll enough to shove his attacker off, and kicked him twice in the stomach. When it was the man’s turn to grunt, Wally—used to thinking fast even if he wasn’t physically a speedster at the moment—rolled quickly to his feet and kicked the guy in the head. The man hissed in pain even as he fell unconscious.   
  
Connor was less lucky, facing down an opponent with a knife. Before, this never would have been a threat to him—the knife blade would have shattered on his skin on contact—but now he found himself facing it down as a very real threat. He turned and managed to keep his bad arm away, shielding it with the rest of his body, as he raised his good arm to block. The knife narrowly missed burying itself in his chest, and he shoved hard at his opponent to try and drive him away. The man had bulk, though, and for the moment, was far superior in strength than the de-powered Superboy. This was something new and alarming to Superboy, and Robin could see it in his eyes.  
  
 _“Like Black Canary, SB!”_ he hissed over the short range comm, even as he deflected an attack from his own opponent. _“Part of the job!”_  
  
Connor’s eyes widened, and it seemed that was all it took to make him remember it wasn’t about _strength_ so much as _technique._ Rather than shove the opponent away, he let the man close range. When the soldier shifted his grip to try a new stab with the knife, he snaked out one foot and caught the man’s ankle, tripping him up. The guard stumbled, and Connor shoved as hard has he could, slamming the man back into the wall. The soldier grunted, and Connor took the opportunity to reach out and crack the guard’s head back against the wall just hard enough to knock him out. The man slithered to the floor, unconscious.  
  
“You okay, Supey?” Kid Flash asked in alarm, as Superboy winced and touched momentarily at his injured side.  
  
“Yeah. Pushed a little hard, but yeah.” He stepped back as Robin and Artemis finished with their own opponents and doubled back. After a moment, he added, “That...was way more satisfying to do without super strength. Starting to see why you two get a kick out of it. And why Canary pushes conflict control so much.”  
  
Robin flashed him a grin. “Feels good when you take down somebody who outclasses you with nothing but pure skill, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Superboy admitted, also grinning slightly. “Feels good not to be useless, either.”  
  
“Hate to break up patting everybody on the back,” Artemis interrupted, “But those guys didn’t go down quiet. We’ve just announced that we’re coming at the trickiest part of the attack!”  
  
“It was never going to work forever, anyway,” Robin said. “At least we got this far. They won’t have time to call for backup just yet. Most of their force will still be scouting the explosions. But we need to do this hard and fast now, guys. Go for broke. Let’s go!”  
  
Gaining the stairs would probably be the hardest part—the opponent had the advantage of height, and now knew they were coming. They could counteract this somewhat, however, by removing visibility from the equation. Robin hurled several smoke bombs up the stairs, and listened for the burst noise and the yells of alarm and sporadic gunfire before gesturing for his team to move.  
  
Artemis took point, while Superboy and Kid Flash fell to the rear. Now that they no longer could bluff their way through, and lacked the powers to be heavy hitters in combat, it was imperative they stay back and not draw attention to themselves or make decent targets. Besides, this next part would require range—something that was, unquestionably, Artemis’ specialty.  
  
She didn’t disappoint. As they rounded the twisting stairwell to the third floor, even buried in smoke and without decent visuals to see their opponents, she snapped off several perfect shots one after another. Robin heard yells of pain and alarm and the sounds of guns clattering to the floor from above, and the hail of bullets lessened significantly. They gained height on the stairs, clambering after Artemis as she swept arrow after arrow from her quiver without pause, and before Robin realized it they were on level ground again, officially on the third floor.   
  
The smoke started to dissipate, and Artemis’ handiwork became more visible. Half a dozen guards were strewn about, all disarmed, several unconscious. A few were merely dazed from concussive shots or released nets and bolas, and Robin quickly knocked them unconscious as well.   
  
Behind them, Wally whistled. “Remind me not to get on Artemis’ bad side,” he muttered to Connor.  
  
“More than you usually do?” the clone snarked back.   
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Quiet!” Robin interrupted. “We’ve got guards incoming. Artemis, how’s your ammo doing?”  
  
“A couple tricks left. Probably enough to get us there. Not sure I’ll have enough to get us out,” she reported grimly. “More of these bozos than I thought.”  
  
“That’s fine. Go all out to get us there,” Robin said. “I’ve still got some reserve to get out, if it comes to it.”  
  
“Go crazy? Sounds like fun,” Artemis said, smirking, as she drew another arrow from her quiver.  
  
She threw herself out into the hallway, and had the arrow raised and fired before the incoming soldiers could even recognize her as an opponent. The arrow burst open, and a net slithered out, spreading open and tangling up the five charging guards and their weapons. The men shouted in alarm, and several others dived forward to try and free them.   
  
Artemis was ready for them, and already had several more arrows at the ready. She fired them one after another with lightning speed, disarming weaponry and hitting limbs with incredible accuracy in the chaos, causing men to howl in pain and clutch at their now bleeding arms and legs. Within moments, half the initial attack force had been brought to a screeching halt with the ferocity of Artemis’ counterattack.  
  
“Let’s go!” Robin ordered, diving out after. “Before they get a chance to recover form that!”  
  
The four of them blazed past the initial force, still struggling in the net and angrily yelling. Kid Flash and Superboy paused long enough to strip the men of their weapons and knock them out, while Robin followed close on Artemis’ heels, throwing discs at the ready. In the rare instance Artemis missed or a new opponent came out of nowhere, he was there to cover her, disarming opponents before they could get a chance to fire at any of the team.  
  
It was costing them—Artemis’ quiver was getting emptier by the second—but unbelievably it was _working_. Their crazy assault was so heavy-handed and fast the soldiers didn’t seem to know how to react. Artemis hadn’t once stopped moving forward since she began the attack, trusting her teammates to clean up behind her as she disarmed, trapped, and knocked out their opponents with every bit of ammunition and skill she had. The rest of them had lived up to that trust by making sure everyone she knocked down _stayed_ down.   
  
They were gaining ground. Already Robin could see a thick steel door ahead, a high-security model that was clearly the last obstacle between them and this weapon—well, that and the fifteen or so guards standing in front of it. If they could just make it there—  
  
 _“Look out!”_  
  
Robin felt something thud into him from behind. For a moment he thought he’d been hit, or tackled by one of the soldiers, when his vision was temporarily obscured by white cloth. Then he heard the soft hiss of pain above him, and realized it had been Superboy to tackle him, not an enemy. A quick glance to the side revealed Artemis had also been knocked to the ground by Kid Flash.   
  
The rapport of gunfire over their heads seconds later revealed why. Enemies had opened fire behind them—Kid Flash and Superboy, at the rear of the attack, had noticed and knocked them out of the way just in time.  
  
 _“Circular building!”_ Kid Flash was hissing over the short-range comms. _“Even if we knock guys out they can still circle around from behind!”_  
  
 _“Let’s see them circle around_ this, _then,”_ Robin said, as he rolled out from beneath Connor and snapped half a dozen explosive discs into his hands. His aim was perfect when he flung them, embedding them into the walls and ceiling. The _boom_ that sounded as they exploded was sure to catch the attention of all the _other_ distracted guards in the building, but the collapsing walls and ceiling _were_ successful in blocking off an assault from behind.   
  
“Nice shot!” Kid Flash yelled, as he and Artemis got to their feet.   
  
Robin grinned, helping Connor up. “They definitely aren’t feeling the aster right now, that’s for sure.”  
  
“Maybe not, but we won’t be either if we just hang around!” Artemis snapped. She was already flying back into action, taking advantage of the temporary surprised lull in the attack from the soldiers ahead of them, distracted as they were by the blast. The last of her bola arrows tangled two soldiers with their weapons, knocking them over, and two more concussive blasts sent others stumbling in confusion, making their shots go wild.   
  
“You heard her, keep moving!” Robin hollered, pulling out more throwing discs. He could feel his utility belt getting lighter by the second, and hoped he’d had enough to break them out of there.  
  
The team collided with the last of the guards in front of the door. Robin threw down another smoke pellet, and hurled himself into the fray. A quick kick disarmed his first opponent and a sharp palm strike finished him off. Before he’d even dropped to the ground Robin had vaulted off of him to crouch on another man’s shoulders, this time twisting his weight downward to flip the guard overhead with his legs and into the nearest wall. The man groaned and slumped to the ground bonelessly, but Robin ignored him, already on his third; he used his momentum from the last attack to dive into a neat roll, and turned the roll into a swift sweeping kick that cut two more guards’ legs out from under them. Sharp strikes with each palm to the head put both men out cold.   
  
By the time he was on his fifth, hitting hard with a sharp kick to the stomach, the smoke was starting to clear. Most of the guards were down and all of them had been disarmed by now. There was a small pile of them at Artemis’ feet and she was going at it hand to hand with another of the soldiers. She was actually smirking, however, and seemed to be enjoying herself. It looked like Superboy and Kid Flash had taken down two each, and both were brawling it out with one last guard apiece.   
  
The final guard was in the middle of sneaking his way up behind Kid Flash with a raised knife. Robin narrowed his eyes, snatched his own winded opponent’s arm, and used the technique Batman had taught him to leverage his soldier straight into the sneaking one. Both men yelled in surprise as they crashed into the wall, with a pair of sharp jabs Robin knocked them into unconsciousness.  
  
Artemis dropped her final guard with a sharp kick, and Kid Flash and Superboy managed to down theirs with what Robin recognized as classic Black Canary moves a few seconds later. The hallway was clear—for the moment.   
  
“Thanks for the save there, Rob,” Kid Flash said, panting.  
  
Robin nodded with a grin, but then grew serious. “Cover me while I get this door open,” he ordered, diving for the thick steel door—and their goal. It was locked, of course—Robin hadn’t considered for a second that their target would be _that_ easy to reach. But there was a control panel right next to it, and Robin plugged in his computer glove, immediately setting to work.  
  
Unsurprisingly, the security was heavy. Smith’s genius with computers really showed here, and he definitely did not want anybody getting in who wasn’t authorized to. Robin could feel his teeth grinding as he worked his way through dozens of security pitfalls and digital traps, picking apart Smith’s code and using it to his advantage.  
  
“Uh, Rob? Not to interrupt or anything, but you might want to hurry. We’ve got incoming baddies and Supey’s not doing too hot.”   
  
Robin spared half a glance to take in his team behind them. All of them were crouched in the small indent at the door, surrounding Robin and keeping him hidden from view. All of them were battered, bruised, and bore more than a few injuries; there was a nasty gash on Artemis’ arm, and Kid Flash had a painful looking slice running up his leg. Superboy was definitely the worst, though. Even though his thick winter jacket had protected him from quite a few injuries, it was rapidly staining red where his original gunshot wounds were. He was leaning heavily on the wall next to the door, looking paler than usual, and had one hand pressed against his stained side.   
  
“ ‘m fine,” Superboy said. “Don’t worry about me.”  
  
“He lost a lot of blood earlier,” Kid Flash countered, “And all that fighting must’ve broken his injuries open again...if they didn’t hit him there.”   
  
“Incoming,” Artemis warned. She had her bow out again and was facing the hallway that hadn’t been collapsed yet.   
  
“Going as fast as I can,” Robin said, in answer to both of them. He was almost there. Just a few more things to hack. “Kid Flash, my belt, third pocket to the left. It’s knockout gas—grab every pellet left. On my signal I’ll open the door just a fraction. Fling all of them through and I’m closing the door again. Everyone, stand clear.”  
  
Everyone nodded. Robin heard the _twang_ of a bowstring as Artemis fired, and a distant cry of alarm as another soldier was disarmed. He heard Superboy’s rasping breathing, and Kid Flash’s muttering as he gingerly flipped open the indicated pouch on the utility belt. He did his best to ignore it all. The door was his priority. If he could just—  
  
 _There!_ “KF, now!” he ordered, as the door slid open several inches.   
  
Wally dutifully rolled all of the pellets into the room as hard as he could, and Robin immediately reversed the direction of the door, slamming it shut. He was just in time—several gunshots rang out from within, and thudded uselessly off the strong steel doors on the inside as they snapped shut again. So he _had_ guessed right—there had been security inside.  
  
“Hurry!” Artemis hissed. “This is my last arrow!” There was a final twang, and an explosion sounded down the hallway. The building rumbled slightly, and based on the crashing noises, Robin guessed Artemis had taken his idea and blown out the ceiling to buy them some time.  
  
He counted to twenty, giving the gas enough time to dissipate. Then, fingers working lightning speed, he commanded the door to open again. “Go, hurry!”  
  
They didn’t need further ordering. Wally snagged Connor’s good arm and helped him stumble through the steel door, and Artemis dived through after him. Robin paused long enough to disconnect from the security panel and fling another pair of exploding discs behind him, and then dived through the door as well.   
  
As anticipated, there was a security panel on this side, too. Robin immediately plugged into that one and overrode all security features—easy now, thanks to his previous hack—to close and lock the door behind them.  
  
“I sealed it,” he said, disconnecting from the panel and looking around at the others. “Smith can probably break through eventually, but for now, we’re safe.”  
  
“You mean we’re trapped,” Kid Flash corrected, “And doesn’t _this_ just feel familiar?” He jerked his head at Superboy, bringing back memories of when they’d broken into Cadmus and first found him.  
  
Robin shrugged. “Least he’s on our side this time.”  
  
“What are you _talking_ about?” Artemis asked, glancing between them, as Superboy snorted.   
  
“Later,” Robin said. “For now, we find this weapon.”  
  
“Well that shouldn’t be too hard,” Wally said, jerking his thumb towards the center of the room. “Pretty sure that’s it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! We’re currently doing loads of overtime at work.

‘That’ was the massive computer bank that dominated the equally massive room. It was an enormous tower that reached nearly to the ceiling, covered in blinking lights and streaming with wires, and looked like a combination of a bank of servers gone out of control and a secret high tech military station. Most of the now-unconscious personnel, guards and workers alike, were clustered around the machine. Other than a few chairs and desks, it appeared to be the only thing in the room.   
  
“Good guess,” Robin said, staring up at it. After a moment, he shook his head and said, “Okay. I’ll get to work on this thing. Superboy—take a breather. KF, Artemis, see if one of you can help him out. The other disarms those guards and searches for a way out. I don’t think we’re going back out that door.”   
  
He glanced in the direction of the steel door they’d passed through. Already he could hear angry banging and yelling on the other side, but they wouldn’t be breaking through with even the best battering ram. For once, this place’s crazy security would be working in their favor. They would need to get Smith up to the front lines to hack Robin’s hack, and hopefully the team would have a new way out by then.  
  
The three dutifully set to work. Wally dragged a chair over for Connor to flop into, positioned to keep an eye on the door. He helped Connor shrug off the stolen coat and immediately began examining the injuries, tending to them as best as he could with the first aid supplies Robin passed him. Artemis rounded up all the weapons the guards had been using and stacked them in a neat pile far away from their owners, bound and gagged all of them, and then began circling the room searching for another way out.  
  
Robin left them to it, and turned his attention to his own job: disarming the weapon. He pitched the technician sitting at the computer terminal off his chair for Artemis to collect, plugged his gauntlet computer in, and set to work.  
  
The first thing he did, before attempting anything else, was set his glove to search out and download all information the computer had to offer. Smith, while a formidable and obnoxious enemy, was also quite clever—enough to figure out how to blanket all powers without coding to an individual’s abilities. Besides the obvious improvements this might make to places like Belle Reve, it was also definitely tech the League would want to get familiar with, in order to know how to counter it. It was simply too dangerous to be an unknown factor.   
  
With his gauntlet computer making a copy of everything on the weapon’s drive, he searched next for a way to disable it. Unfortunately, Smith had beaten him in this regard, and he cursed in frustration.  
  
“What’s up, Rob?” Kid Flash asked, looking over from tending to Superboy’s injured side. “If you’re using regular old swears this can’t be good...”  
  
“It isn’t,” Robin said in frustration. “This Smith’s too smart for his own good. This thing doesn’t have a regular on-off switch to begin with. There’s no button I can flip to turn it off. It used to be activated with strings of code, but Smith completely disabled the ability to shut it down. It’s perma-on twenty-four-seven. Even the failsafes to shut it down in the event of electrical surges, overheating, or anything else have been completely removed.  He’s not giving us even a _chance_ to turn this thing off.”  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Can’t you do something about it?”  
  
“I’d have to write entire new lines of code to add a shut-down function, and until I have time to study the program, that could take a while.” Robin grit his teeth. “Damn! He knew he was up against another hacker, so he just removed that equation completely. He’d rather risk draining his power supply or overclocking this weapon than he would you guys getting your powers back or us getting out of here alive.”  
  
“That’s what you call a sore loser,” Artemis called grimly. “I figure it goes even farther than that, too. There’s no way out of here other than that door. We’re really trapped in here—if he disabled those things as a last-ditch attempt to distract and catch us...”  
  
“Why don’t we just _smash_ it then?” Superboy said, through grit teeth. He winced as Kid Flash wrapped fresh bandages around his ribs, trying to contain some of the bleeding. “Who cares how we wreck his thing, as long as we do it?”  
  
“Not that easy,” Robin said. “There’s always a way to recover and back up data. If this guy is a match for me, he knows all the tricks too. I mean, even I’m getting a copy of it now.” As if to chime in, his gauntlet beeped, signifying it was done with the data download.   
  
“Breaking it might provide a short-term fix, but if he can still recover the data, there’s still a chance he could use it against us in...the....future...”   
  
“Um, Rob? You okay?”  
  
Robin’s eyes widened....and then he abruptly burst into a grin. “Better than okay, KF,” he said, as his hand darted to his glove computer. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m whelmed. Thanks, SB.”  
  
“Um...any time.” Superboy winced again as Kid Flash helped him shrug back into his jacket, and then asked, “What did I do, exactly?”  
  
“We’re gonna wreck his thing...digitally, anyway.” He was still grinning as his fingers flew over the holographic keys hovering just above his gauntlet. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. Smith is a computer geek. We can physically break his stuff but he’s smart enough to have backups on that. It won’t last long. He might even have a backup to keep it going now. But what’s the bane of all computer geeks?”  
  
The three of them exchanged glances, and then Wally volunteered, “A virus?”  
  
“Give KF a gold star,” Robin said. “I’ve already got a copy of the data. We’ll digitally raze everything stored here, and leave a surprise behind in case Smith tries to recover anything later. Instantaneous search and destroy. I’ve still got a copy of Dr. Roquette’s Fog virus on hand, I can modify it to fit our specifications...”   
  
“I hope you can modify it faster than they can break in,” Artemis said, eyeing the door. There was another metal _thud_ from the other side.   
  
“I’m hoping this virus will shut down the machine,” Superboy said grimly. He stood up and, still clutching his bad arm, looked over Robin’s shoulder at the holographic readout, leaning tiredly against the weapon’s massive tower. “Please tell me that’s how it works.”  
  
“I’m hoping it will,” Robin said. “Otherwise, we might be in trouble.”  
  
He worked feverishly, modifying the old Fog virus as fast as he could for use on the Anti-League weapon, adding bits and pieces from other nasty programs and hacks he and Batman had found over the years. The result was a violent and deadly piece of digital work, and he was very careful to keep it quarantined from everything else in his own gauntlet. Now if only it would work...  
  
“They’ve gone quiet out there,” Kid Flash reported. “No more banging on the door.”  
  
“Smith is probably in there trying to hack in,” Robin guessed grimly. “We’re running out of time. My hack won’t hold him forever. Okay, virus completed. Uploading to the virus to the weapon’s systems...now.”  
  
His holographic glove’s screen changed to show a loading bar, already at five percent. He, Artemis, and Superboy watched anxiously as the bar steadily filled, and the deadly virus began to flood the weapon’s systems.  
  
“Anything on the powers?”  
  
“Nothing yet,” Superboy said with a wince.  
  
“Damn. Fifty percent...”  
  
“Can’t you hurry that thing up, Rob?” Kid Flash hissed, sounding anxious. “Sounds like there’s a lot of guys out there.”  
  
“It’s going as fast as I can get it to go. Sixty five percent...”  
  
“How long will it take that virus to mess with stuff once it’s fully downloaded?” Artemis asked.   
  
“No idea. Not long, I hope. Roquette’s virus shut down the Fog pretty fast. I modified it enough to smash through data and removed the part involving shredding nanobots. Hopefully it’ll be enough. Eighty five percent...C’mon, c’mooon...”  
  
There was a warning beep from the security panel by the door, and the light swapped from a solid green to flashing red. “He’s breached my lock,” Robin reported, glancing up. “Crap...ninety percent, c’mon, almost there—”  
  
The security door burst open. Robin glanced up long enough to spot the same man he’d glimpsed when they were first caught in the doorway—relatively tall, in a loud Hawaiian shirt and white lab coat. He met Robin’s gaze, eyes to lenses, and Robin knew Smith knew he was responsible for all the hacking handiwork.   
  
The man’s lip curled in a snarl, and he said in the irritated voice Robin recognized from the intercom and the office, “Kill them! _Now!_ ”  
  
Robin’s eyes widened as a dozen guards flooded into the room and leveled their guns at them. Artemis had already snagged Kid Flash’s arm and was dragging him behind the massive tower of the weapon, the only viable hiding place at this point, even if it was little more than stalling the inevitable. Robin turned as if to join them, but froze.  
  
 _I can’t disconnect,_ he realized with a growing sense of horror, glancing at the wire still running from his gauntlet to the weapon. _If I do the virus upload interrupts and maybe nobody gets out alive. I’m trapped—_  
  
 _“Robin!”_   
  
The guns opened fire, and for the second time that night Robin felt something heavy thud into him. For a moment he was absolutely positive he was dead, or at least severely injured. Then he realized the weight wasn’t from the force of two dozen bullets or the weakness of his own limbs—it was because somebody had curled around him to shield him from the force of the gunshots as much as possible.  
  
Robin felt a stab of panic in his heart. If Artemis and Kid Flash were around the corner...than that meant Superboy had deliberately taken the hits for him. Superboy, who was already suffering from several nasty gunshot wounds and was unlikely to survive a dozen bullets to his torso. Superboy, who was so used to playing bullet shield for his team mates that he’d probably leapt in the way on instinct without thinking about the ramifications.  
  
 _Oh god,_ please _don’t let me have gotten Connor killed_ , Robin thought. For a moment he could barely hear the still-going rapport of gunfire around him. His mind was a whirl of chaos and terror— _this is what I was trying to avoid! This is why I didn’t want to involve them! This is why I never should have been leader! This was an idiotic attack from the start and this is all_ your _fault!_  
  
But then he heard it—the deep, annoyed sounding sigh, and the soft _“Heh,”_ close to his ear. Then, still low but sounding significantly more confident and less pained than before, Superboy said, “Great. _Now_ can I wreck this thing?”  
  
Robin’s eyes widened. He was still curled awkwardly between the weapon’s data bank and the Kryptonian’s shielding crouch, but he managed to work his arm up enough to glance at the holographic display still up on his computer. It blinked _100%_ over and over, next to the full upload bar. Still surprised, he glanced up at the weapon’s main tower—now completely dark, with all its blinking lights off.  
  
It worked. It had _worked._ Barely on time, by a matter of seconds, but Superboy must have leapt in to shield him _just_ as the virus finished and decimated the weapon’s digital remains. It had been a success, and all of Smith’s predictions about power atrophy had been for nothing.   
  
Superboy’s powers were back.  
  
“Y’know what?” Robin said, grinning. “Go to town. I think you earned it.”  
  
 _“Finally,”_ Superboy growled, but his rather nasty smirk suggested he was actually looking forward to it. Still shielding Robin while being shot at—and apparently, once again feeling bullets as little more than beestings—he reached forward, sank his fist into one of the panels on the weapon like it was made of butter, and calmly ripped an entire panel out of the tower. Then, still showing no strain whatsoever, he turned and hurled it at the nearest soldiers.  
  
The gunshots staggered to a halt as the guards ducked out of the way, or yelled as they were hit. Superboy cracked his knuckles and roared, “You want some of this _now_ , or you gonna run like cowards now that my powers are back?”  
  
 _“Somebody say the powers were back on?”_ Robin heard over the short-range comms. A blur of white and blue zipped around the now-off weapon’s tower, and then Kid Flash came to a stand still, grinning. “All right! Save some for me, Supey, I’ve got some payback to dish out too!”  
  
“Already called dibs,” Connor said, smirking nastily.   
  
“Gotta beat me to it first!” Kid Flash countered, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. Then he blurred forward, hitting the guards at the door at what was _definitely_ sixty miles per hour this time.   
  
The guards didn’t know what hit them. Kid Flash shot past too fast for them to counter, easily snatching their weapons out of their hands. He did a full loop of the room, tossing the guns on the far side out of reach, and then zipped back to start dishing out lightning speed punches and kicks.  
  
Superboy, not to be outdone, roared angrily and launched himself with one super leap into the fray. It was a bit like watching a bowling ball come crashing down into a collection of pins, and watching as they scattered everywhere was almost comical. Bullets, knives, smashed chairs, punches, and kicks glanced off Superboy’s once-again impervious skin without so much as a scratch, and he casually tossed men aside, into walls, and into their fellow guards.   
  
Between the two of their super-powered friends, they were quickly able to stem the flow of guards surging into the room, and bottle them up at the natural choke point of the door. Robin disconnected from the weapon, grinning to himself—things were definitely looking up, now. Just one more bit of business to complete...  
  
“I guess we don’t get a piece of the action,” Artemis said, trotting around from behind the now dead weapon. Her tone was grumpy, but she was smirking a little as she spoke, watching their two newly re-powered team mates at work by the door.  
  
“I think we got plenty earlier,” Robin said with a smirk. “We wouldn’t have even gotten in here without your artillery.”   
  
“Yeah, well...” Artemis shrugged. “Cost me all my arrows to do it. I guess it’s their turn to have a little fun.”  
  
“And who says _we_ can’t still have fun?” Robin asked, still grinning. He pulled out half a dozen throwing discs—almost everything he had left—and waved them in front of her nose. “We only wrecked this thing digitally, y’know. SB’s having so much fun breaking faces, I guess that leaves this weapon to us.”  
  
Artemis grinned back at him. “Y’know what, that _does_ sound like fun.”  
  
Artemis kept watch as Robin scrambled around the darkened machine, planting explosives at different intervals to ensure the machine would be well and truly shredded. Robin wasn’t going to give this thing a chance of coming back—it would be next to impossible to rebuild, and even if it was, there would still be a nasty little surprise in its digital insides waiting to wreak havoc. Nobody was messing with his friends or the League again, not on his watch.  
  
He was just finishing planting the last explosive, when Artemis hissed suddenly, “Robin! Look.”  
  
He did, and felt a new smile growing on his face. Mr. Loud-Hawaiian-Shirt-John-Smith himself had managed to slip into the room somehow, probably while Superboy and Kid Flash were distracted with getting shot at. The man had two guards with him, but none of them were trying to enter the fray. Instead, Smith seemed more intent on his machine, sneaking around in a wide arc to come at it from an angle Superboy and Kid Flash were unlikely to notice.   
  
“Think we should go say hello?” Artemis asked, glancing at him.  
  
“It’s only polite. We are guests,” Robin answered, thinking back to dozens of Alfred’s etiquette lessons. Somehow he had a feeling the old butler had never quite meant them for this.   
  
They circled around behind the guards, using the shadows of the wide room to their advantage. The guards hadn’t spotted them, and Smith, while clearly a genius with computers, was definitely no genius in combat or stealth. It was practically child’s play for Artemis and Robin to bring down a guard each, knocking them both into unconsciousness before either knew what hit them.  
  
Robin swung around in front of Smith before he could bolt, while Artemis doubled behind him, pressing one end of her bow into the man’s back. “Don’t. Move,” she growled slowly.  
  
Smith didn’t. Genius, that one. Then again, it probably helped that he thought he had some kind of trick arrow pressed into his back, rather than the tip of a bow. Oh well—his mistake.  
  
“Hey there, Johnny,” Robin said brightly. “I can call you Johnny, right? Unless you want to tell me your real name?”  
  
The man’s eyes narrowed, and he glared murderously at Robin. “I don’t care _who_ you are or who you work for, you insolent little brat,” he snapped. “I _will_ have my weapon up and running again, no matter what you did to it—”  
  
“I kinda _figured_ you might say something like that,” Robin interrupted. “So we worked in a little extra hack. See the blinking lights?”  
  
Smith glanced from Robin to the machine. His eyes widened as he spotted the occasional blink of a well-placed throwing disc, and went even wider when he realized the frequency of those blinks was increasing rapidly. “You _wouldn’t_ —”  
  
“Oh-hoh, I think you know I would,” Robin said with a grin. “Bombs away!”  
  
With perfect timing, the disc countdowns hit zero, and exploded. These were some of Robin’s smaller, less volatile explosives—he’d used the most potent ones already in the armory, and there was nothing else in the room to make the blasts even larger. As a result, the explosion didn’t blow out the entire room, or flash fry foe and ally alike.   
  
It _did,_ however, do an excellent job of shredding the tower. The blasts sent chunks of plastic and metal and tangles of wires everywhere, and left quite a bit on fire. Half of the base of the weapon was torn out with a particularly well-placed explosive, and like a partially cut tree the entire structure began to wobble dangerously. There was a loud, screeching groan as the remainder of its base cracked and twisted and listed dangerously, and then the entire thing toppled sideways, crashing into the far wall.   
  
There was a loud _boom_ as wall met weapon, and weapon won. The wall tore out with a rumbling crash, and a burst of frigid night air came whistling into the room, kicking up eddies of powdered snow that mixed with the dust of the now-destroyed wall. Now sounding much more muffled, Robin could distantly hear the sounds of the wall and remains of the weapon’s tower crashing down three stories to land on hard-packed snow and ice below.   
  
“Timber,” Robin said solemnly.  
  
It was difficult to see Smith for a moment, with visibility cut in half thanks to the wind-driven snow and dust. Once it began to settle, however, and only an occasional breeze slipping in the new door was left to tug at Robin’s cape, he had a very good view of Smith’s face.  
  
The man looked shocked—but it didn’t last long. Within seconds, his stunned stare rapidly transformed into a look of pure loathing.  
  
“You obnoxious little shit. Do you have any _idea,_ ” he snarled venomously, “How many years of research you just _blew up_ like it was some _plaything?_ Do you have _any_ idea who it is you’re messing with?”  
  
“Not really, no,” Robin said glibly. “You still haven’t told us.”  
  
The normally-articulate Smith let out a shriek of rage and started to lunge forward, flexing his fingers as though he itched to put them around Robin’s throat. Robin danced back a pace easily, and Artemis snatched one of the man’s arms, wrenching it behind his back so hard the man staggered to a halt with a yelp.  
  
“You _dare,_ ” the man gasped, after he’d managed to catch his breath again—and stop wincing. “You _dare_ to mess around with _me?_ Do you know what kind of allies I have?” 

“Nope,” Robin said, growing a little more serious, “But I’ve got a feeling the League would just _love_ to hear you talk about your friends. So how about you call off your goons and come with us nice and quiet—”  
  
In the half second Robin looked away to reach for his utility belt, and the pair of cuffs he kept in one pocket, he suddenly heard Kid Flash yell over the comms, _“Guys! Head’s up!”_  
  
A burst of gunfire sounded, much closer than the sounds by the door, and Robin threw himself aside. He was barely in time, and felt several bullets tug at the edge of his cape as he ducked and rolled away. More gunfire sounded, and Artemis was forced to drop her prisoner and throw herself to the side as well. Smith—no idiot, even if he was angry—turned and fled in the direction of the soldiers, and any chance he had at protection.  
  
And there were a _lot_ of soldiers now. Kid Flash and Superboy had been pushed back by the sheer numbers of attacking guards, all drawn from the explosion in the armory to where the _real_ battle was. Now they were pushing into the massive room as fast as they could, and leveling their guns at the intruders.   
  
_“Think that’s our cue to go!”_ Kid Flash added, zipping back towards Robin and Artemis. Superboy followed with a powerful leap, slamming down firmly between the gunmen and the three not-bulletproof team members as the first of the guns began to open fire.   
  
Robin grit his teeth. He hated letting Smith go, but Wally was right. They’d accomplished their mission—more than that, they’d rendered the weapon they were supposed to investigate useless. Smith would be icing on the cake, but it wasn’t worth risking their lives for. That _would_ be an idiotic decision.   
  
_“Agreed. Head for the bioship!”_  
  
They needed no further encouragement. Kid Flash snatched Robin up almost before he’d finished speaking and bolted for the massive hole the weapon had made in the wall. He was zipping vertically down the three story building when Superboy launched himself out of the hole, Artemis in his arms and clinging to his neck with one arm and her bow with the other. He smashed into the snow and ice, leaving a small crater beneath him, as Kid Flash leveled out horizontally. Then both were off across the outer grounds and away from the facility.  
  
The enemy soldiers tried to shoot at them, of course. Robin could see over Kid Flash’s shoulder, and saw them bolting to the hole’s edge, firing rapidly out into the grounds. Their attempts were useless, however. Once again, Kid Flash was nearly impossible to hit, and Superboy was bullet proof.  
  
They left the facility behind very rapidly. Kid Flash slowed his speed enough to let Superboy keep up, but Connor could still set a wicked pace if he really wanted to with his super strength, and it didn’t take them long to reach the outer fence. They found the hole they’d made when the mission first started and slipped through quickly.  
  
The bioship was, mercifully, not too far from there, and its bright red exterior was a beautifully welcome sight after the past several hours. It opened at Robin’s touch, and the team climbed in quickly, sinking wearily into the chairs situated around the main cabin. Robin sank into the pilot’s chair, and as he placed his hands on the control globes, he was surprised to find a sensation of almost... _relief_...that seemed to transfer from the tips of his fingers to some part of his brain. He was still learning the nuances of the bioship and her semi-alive status, but he was pretty sure she had been worried about them.  
  
She was almost enthusiastic in launching into the air now, and sped away from the facility rapidly, before any anti-aircraft weaponry—or other aircraft in general—could come after them. Robin focused on setting their course and ensuring they weren’t being followed, a task that took more energy out of him than he’d expected. Now that the rush of the mission was over, he was starting to realize he was absolutely exhausted.  
  
Once he was sure they were in the clear, he turned his attention back to his team, all of whom were drooping down in their seats or flopped over their consoles. Artemis had pulled off her now empty quiver and dropped both it and her bow at her feet. Everyone looked beat, which didn’t surprise Robin any. It had been a rough mission for all of them.  
  
“How’s everyone doing?” he asked. “Any major injuries? Problems?”  
  
“Nothing that can’t wait until we get back to the Cave,” Artemis said. “Maybe a few bandages so I don’t bleed everywhere.”  
  
“I can help with those,” Kid Flash offered, sitting up. “I owe you one. And I’m not as bad now that I’ve got my super speed back.” He gestured at what _had_ been the nasty gash one one leg, which now resembled a more superficial thin slice.   
  
Robin nodded. He himself wasn’t too bad. A lot of bruises and cuts, but they’d heal. After Artemis got patched up he’d swap with her on the controls long enough to tend to himself. “Superboy?”  
  
Connor pried off the stolen, bloodied coat and tore off the reddish bandages on his arm like they were made of tissue paper. “Looks fine to me,” he reported, prodding what _had_ been a gunshot wound an hour earlier experimentally.   
  
It did look fine, too. Not completely healed—it looked like a relatively fresh scar, as though he’d received the injury only a week or two ago. Robin suspected that would clear up completely once sunrise came and the Kryptonian got a healthy dose of yellow sun rays. But he didn’t look like he was bleeding out, or like there had been any permanent damage. When the bandages were torn off his side, the wound looked similar, and Robin figured that, too, would be fine by noontime.   
  
“Wait...didn’t Rob say there wasn’t an exit wound on that?” Kid Flash asked, as he wrapped a few bandages around Artemis’ sliced arm. “The bullet’s not still in there, is it?”  
  
Superboy stared bemusedly at his arm for a moment, and flexed it experimentally. “I guess,” he said. “It doesn’t bother me, at least.”  
  
“That’s good,” Robin said dryly, “Because unless we turn around and ask old Johnny to set up another weapon, I don’t think anybody’s got anything strong enough to dig it out again, unless they have a pair of Kryptonite tweezers on hand.”  
  
Superboy grimaced. “Pass,” he said. “I’ve had enough of getting torn open, thanks.”  
  
“Funny,” Robin said, and this time his tone was more serious than dry. “If that’s how you feel, why’d you take such a stupid risk by shielding me like that when I was downloading the virus?”  
  
Superboy blinked, and Kid Flash and Artemis glanced over, curious. Robin, warming to his lecture, went on. “I mean, we had no idea if it would work or not, or even if it did restore your powers, if it would work immediately! You could’ve gotten yourself killed. On _my_ watch.” _On my orders_ , he didn’t have to add.  
  
Superboy’s eyes narrowed. “ _My_ choice,” he reiterated from earlier. “Don’t forget. And anyway...” He paused, and looked a little more thoughtful.   
  
“Look,” he said finally, “I just learned today that you guys—you, Artemis, Batman, Canary—take some really nasty risks _all_ the time without super strength or invulnerability or...or _anything_ to really protect you. Even Black Canary doesn’t rely on just her cry to do the job. It sucks, being vulnerable to _everything_. But you guys still managed to deal with that _and_ find time to save my ass in that mission, more than once. So you know what? If you can do that, so can I.”  
  
Robin wasn’t really sure what to say to that. Superboy had had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that Canary could mop the floor with him without using powers, but that had always been due to thinking his powers made him unstoppable. He’d learned to temper that, but he’d still never quite seen it from the point of view of people like Robin or Artemis. Now it seemed he was starting to, and it was a good lesson for him—and also a little touching to know their hard work and skill was being appreciated.  
  
Still...”You could’ve gotten yourself _killed_ ,” Robin reiterated.   
  
“Yeah? Well you _definitely_ would’ve gotten killed if I hadn’t gotten in the way,” Superboy shot back. “I figured there was a good chance my powers would come back, your upload was almost done. Even if it wasn’t, we _both_ would’ve gotten shot up if I just stood there. At least I would’ve done _something_ then just stand there like an idiot.”  
  
He had a point...not that Robin wanted to admit it. _He could’ve died,_ the little, panicked part of his brain—the part that had been set off by the exercise—shrieked over and over in the back of his head. _They all could’ve died!_   
  
_But they didn’t,_ Robin realized. _They didn’t, because they know what they’re doing. They didn’t because_ you _agreed to trust them. Because they’re your_ team, _and you’re their leader. You aren’t that_ thing _from the exercise at all. You’re_ Robin.  
  
He took a deep, meditative breath and closed his eyes for a moment. That little voice of panic seemed to quiet down as he pushed it to the back of his head, and let his trust in himself and in his team—his _friends_ —win out. After a moment, he nodded. “Right. You’re right. Sorry. You just startled me for a minute there.” _But it’s all okay now. Everything turned out just fine. It’s all fine again._  
  
It would take a little while to adjust completely, he was sure...but he realized he was actually starting to believe it.  
  
The three of them were watching him with concern, Robin realized. He must’ve let more of his emotions show than he’d wanted to, but he _was_ exhausted. That was his excuse, at any rate. They didn’t say anything, however—for which he was grateful—and after a moment all three turned back to what they were doing.  
  
“Guess I don’t need these anymore,” Superboy said after a moment, tossing the bloodied coat and gloves over a spare chair. He reached up and pulled the stolen hat from his head, flattening his hair down with a scowl.  
  
“Well if you don’t want’em...” Kid Flash finished tying off the last of Artemis’ bandages and, with lightning speed, whipped around to pluck the hat from Superboy’s hand before it could be tossed on the pile with the rest of the winter wear. “Souvenir!”   
  
“A hat?” Artemis asked skeptically. “Why do you always pick headgear?”  
  
Wally shrugged as he fitted the hat over his own head. “The coat and gloves are all bloody, and I didn’t get a chance to grab anything else.”  
  
“It has a bullet hole in it,” Artemis reported, eyeing the tuft of red hair sticking out one side.  
  
“Even better!” Kid Flash said brightly. “A testament to the bullet Supey’s head rebounded when he got his powers back.”  
  
Superboy snorted.  
  
“You’ll probably want to burn the other things when we get back,” Robin said as an aside, nodding to the coat and gloves. “Probably the last thing we want to leave around is Kryptonian blood not protected by Kryptonian invulnerability. For, y’know...reasons.”  
  
“I don’t think the world could handle a Super-clone-clone,” Kid Flash agreed, oblivious to Connor’s scowl. Then, before that comment could lead in a downward spiral, the speedster added brightly, “Hey, think we could take this thing through some place with a drive-through? I don’t know about you guys, but I’m _starving._ ”  
  


* * *

  
Just one chapter left to wrap this up!


	8. Chapter 8

It took several hours to reach the Cave, and several more to complete their debrief. News of the utterly destroyed facility had travelled fast in the meantime—even if the League couldn’t approach it, they could still post surveillance from far away. So Robin was entirely unsurprised to find not just Batman and Red Tornado waiting for them, but also Green Arrow, Black Canary, the Flash, and (curiously) Captain Marvel.   
  
The League members seemed unusually concerned for their charges. Robin could tell all of them were wearing the kid gloves again, concerned for their partners’ physical and mental well being on a disaster mission after a disaster exercise. So it was with a great deal of satisfaction that Robin, as spokesperson for his team, reported the absolute success of their mission—in which they not only discovered the purpose of the weapon they were sent to investigate, but also utterly destroyed it, thereby saving almost the entire League from a nasty future surprise.  
  
The League members listened with varying degrees of response. Captain Marvel and the Flash seemed particularly impressed with how the team—especially Kid Flash and Superboy—handled while completely de-powered, and Black Canary had nodded her approval at their combat under duress. Green Arrow had smirked when listening to the tale of Artemis’ one-woman assault on half the soldiers in the base. By contrast, Batman was silent and stony-faced throughout the entire debriefing, and so still he might have been a statue.   
  
When they were finally finished, Batman moved for the first time, his eyes narrowing. “My orders,” he said slowly, in a low, commanding growl, “Were _explicitly_ that this was a _covert_ mission only. In the event of _any_ trouble, you were to immediately retreat. All four of you acknowledged these orders. Am I correct?”  
  
Robin barely suppressed a wince. Batman was _ticked._ “Yes,” he agreed, deciding for the moment that it was better not to push it.  
  
“And despite my _explicit_ orders you decided to not only remain, but break covert status, announce your presence, and put yourself in extreme danger for the sake of a failed mission. Is this correct?”  
  
This time he glanced at all of them. All four muttered in meek acknowledgement. Most of them were looking at the floor. Robin was still managing to look at Batman, but only due to four years of practice.   
  
“At least all four of you are clear on that,” Batman growled. “Each of you will, as before, be given a written evaluation detailing _all_ of your mistakes. In addition, all of you will begin additional training with both myself and Black Canary for combat and stealth— _without_ relying on the use of powers.”  
  
Kid Flash gaped. _“Without—?”_  
  
“He’s right, Kid,” Flash cut him off. “Can’t get caught flat footed like that again.”  
  
Batman gave the Flash a dark look before turning back to the Team. “You have one day for recovery. Training begins the following day. Do _not_ be late.” This time Kid Flash was the one to receive the withering look. Wally looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.   
  
“You two are not exempt either,” he added, glancing at Robin and Artemis. “You will be training in more advanced forms of combat and stealth to ensure your fellow team members are covered, and you will be expected to assist those two in their lessons as well.”  
  
Artemis groaned.   
  
“Finally,” Batman said, looking around at them all once again, “...good work.”  
  
All four of them looked up in surprise. “Huh?” Wally said intelligently.  
  
Batman folded his arms behind his back. “As you assessed, this...anti-League weapon did indeed pose an extreme threat to the League,” he said. “Had this weapon successfully been passed off to this highly influential buyer, it would certainly have been used skillfully and dangerously. Even the League would have had difficulty countering it. For the four of you to handle the situation as well as you did under highly stressful and unexpected circumstances indicates skill, courage, and teamwork. You _will_ train to improve and avoid mistakes made in this venture—but given the circumstances, the situation was handled well. Good job.”  
  
There was a stunned silence from the Team as they processed those words. Batman didn’t hand out praise like that easily—they’d _earned_ it, and they all knew it. Not only that, but Batman’s words appeared to have sparked something in their mentors too. The rest of the Leaguers were looking at their partners and charges with a newfound sort of respect, as though re-evaluating their abilities again. Kid gloves, off. They’d proven they could handle themselves again, mind-messing exercise or no.  
  
“Heh,” Superboy said after a moment, first to break the silence. “I can live with that.”   
  
“Hell yeah!” Wally zipped to his mentor’s side. “Praise from Bats doesn’t come easy! I’d say that earns me some celebratory pizzas, don’t you?”  
  
The Flash groaned, but it was good natured. “You’ll eat me out of house and home over a bit of praise, Kid. Oh, _fine._ ”  
  
Artemis snorted. “ _I’m_ heading home for bed,” she said decisively. “I could sleep for a week.”  
  
“Come over tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll get your ammo squared away again,” Green Arrow said, following after her to the zeta tubes. The others, as if taking this as a signal, began to trickle away towards the tubes or to head deeper into the Cave, bringing the meeting to its end.  
  
Batman said nothing as he lead the way towards the zeta tubes as well, or when he keyed in their coordinates to head back to Gotham. Robin was content for once not to break the silence; he had a lot on his mind.   
  
In fact, it wasn’t until they were back at the manor, with their uniforms safely put away in the Batcave and dressed once again as civilians, that Batman— _Bruce_ —finally spoke. “Dick,” he said, almost hesitantly, “You’ve been awful quiet. Are you feeling okay?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Bruce frowned a little. “Are you sure? There’s nothing _else_ you wanted to report...about the mission, maybe?”  
  
Dick frowned. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what Bruce was driving at, and he didn’t exactly want to chat about it at the moment. “I reported everything of importance in the debrief already,” he said instead, evading. “I can go into more detail about the hacks and codes later if you want—”  
  
“That’s not what I’m talking about, Dick.” Bruce eyed him carefully. “Are you...okay, after that assignment? You seemed...reluctant...to lead at first. I didn’t want to push it on you, but the matter was urgent. While the other three are skilled none of them possess reliable leadership skills yet. I wouldn’t have forced it on you if I’d had the time, but...”  
  
“But you had to. The mission was at stake.”   
  
“Yes.”  
  
For a moment, Dick felt nothing but bitterness. There it was—that anything-for-the-sake-of-his-mission side of Bruce, that part of Batman that could never quite be contained. That part that he used to admire and now wanted nothing to do with.  
  
But...as frustrating as it was to see it in action—and related to himself, no less—he realized with a little surprise that he wasn’t really angry. He hadn’t wanted to take lead on that mission, that much was true. He’d been terrified of taking charge, of getting his friends killed with a few bad calls, with more dedication to the _mission_ than the _people._ But Batman had forced him into the role, and Robin found that he’d needed that. It had scared him to take control, but once he’d been given no choice—once his friends had been relying on him—he’d learned that leadership was more than just directing pawns or taking all of the burdens onto his own shoulders. A leader was supposed to lead, but they did it by knowing their followers and trusting them to handle themselves absolutely. It was a valuable lesson, and one he’d sorely needed.   
  
And he’d learned something about himself, too. The exercise had paralyzed him into indecision, made him think things about himself he couldn’t prove or disprove. He’d unhesitatingly sent his friends to their deaths, knowing he made the right choices the entire time, but when he’d had time to think about it after he’d been terrified to think that kind of blackness could be inside of him. He’d been so scared of it he’d refused to move forward, just so he would never have to make another choice again and prove if that thing was really in him. What he hadn’t realized was that deliberately not choosing was also a choice—and one that wasn’t helping him, and wasn’t him.   
  
But he’d learned now. He was more than that _thing._ He could rise above it, and he proved it—to himself, to his friends, and even to Bruce. There might still be difficult decisions to make in the future, but he would face it as he really was, and succeed. Not as a would-be imitator of the Batman. As _Robin._  
  
“I’m fine,” Dick said softly. He looked up, and realized Bruce was still watching him carefully. He smiled—it was a real smile, if softer than usual—and said, “Really, Bruce. I promise. I...realized a few things, on that mission. I think...I think I’m better now than I have been in over a week.”  
  
Bruce was too good to let any sort of emotional flicker cross his face at that, but Dick knew he knew what it meant. _Since the exercise._ He also knew Bruce knew he meant it.  
  
“Alright,” Bruce said after a moment. He didn’t pry further for details—and Dick knew he wanted them badly, so that was saying something. But he did say carefully, as though unaccustomed to offering emotional support, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Dick. But still...if you ever need to...or just _want_ to...you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right? This mission...the train-for-failure exercise...”  
  
Dick was surprised to find he didn’t actually flinch at that, or immediately try to avoid the subject. It really _didn’t_ bother him as much as it had before. And he didn’t think for a second that Bruce had missed that, either.  
  
“I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know.” He still wasn’t ready to talk to Bruce about most of the things that had happened in the exercise—and by extension, some of the revelations he’d made in this past mission. Those things still hit too close to home regarding Bruce, and he wasn’t quite ready to admit to the man who had taken him in just how terrified a part of him was—had been—of becoming him.   
  
But he might get there, one day. And it was still good to know the offer was open.  
  
“And speaking of missions,” he said after a moment. Bruce raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently, and after a moment of hesitation Robin said, “Well...look, Aqualad’s still the best leader for the team right now. He’s good at working with everybody and thinking under fire, so to speak. Maybe not so much with the actual _literal_ fire, but you know what I mean. But...well, if you’re in a tight spot again and you need somebody to lead the team...” Dick shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll bother me so much in the future.”  
  
Bruce blinked once—as good as a start of surprise, for him—and said after a moment, “I see. Are you sure?”  
  
Dick grinned. “I’m absolutely positive that Robin can handle it just fine.”  
  


* * *

  
Thousands of miles away, a man stepped into a pitch black room, closed the door, and waited patiently in its center. He did not wait long—within a minute seven different screens extended down from the ceiling, surrounding him, and flicked on. A distorted white silhouette appeared on each screen. Although the room was quite dark, the brightness of the screens lit up the man, lightly armored and wearing a dull grey mask, sufficiently enough that he could be observed by each watcher.   
  
The man did not wait for an invitation; he understood his masters too well by now. “As arranged, I travelled to the base in Russia to investigate this weapon and represent the Light in its purchase.  
  
“From those I interviewed, it sounded as though the weapon had been highly effective and worked as advertised. The League sent a few of their brats to investigate, it seems, and at least two of them had their abilities blocked. From the description, it sounds like Kid Flash and the Superboy. The Superboy was of particular note to the mercenaries I spoke to—a number of eyewitnesses claim they managed to shoot him. Furthermore, the inventor of this weapon claims that if the kids had been in his weapon’s confines for longer than a couple hours, their powers would have started to deteriorate, permanently.”   
  
One of the distorted figures on screen shifted slightly and spoke. His voice had been distorted digitally as well, just slightly, but even so the man could hear irritation in his tone. _“I see. Highly effective indeed. And did you manage to claim this weapon and recover the Superboy?”_  
  
He hesitated a moment. “No,” he said finally, knowing better than to stretch the truth. “The brats had already been gone for hours by the time I arrived. The man who extended an offer on the weapon to us was particularly...upset. The entire facility was in chaos from their departure. Several areas had been blown up. Most of their regular armaments were destroyed. The anti-League weapon we were offered a chance to buy was completely wiped out.”  
  
 _“Define this...‘wiped out’,”_ one of the screens demanded. It sounded vaguely French. _“Was it merely the physical structure that was destroyed?”_  
  
“The central tower was decimated physically,” the man clarified. “I’m told this was the most vital portion of this weapon, where most of the components for screening powers and producing the energy to block them were located. Most of the outer towers that acted as receivers to push the signal out farther are still intact, but I’m told they’re useless without the central piece. Digitally...unclear as of yet, but early investigations make it sound like this weapon was destroyed internally as well.”   
  
The man grimaced as he finished. “There was nothing left to negotiate or purchase.”  
  
There was silence for a moment as the seven bright figures seemed to consider this. Then another voice, different from the first two, said firmly, _“Good.”_  
  
The man blinked. “Good? That it was destroyed?”  
  
 _“This is not what we seek,”_ the voice said. _“Had you made contact with this so-called weapon still intact, we would have had it destroyed anyway. For once the League’s children have done us a favor.”_   
  
The man was still puzzled by this. He knew his masters owed him no explanation, and he was pushing his luck a little by voicing his opinion, but he asked anyway. “But _why?_ I thought you _wanted_ the power to go up against the League?”  
  
 _“The power to overcome them, yes,”_ Another of the voices said. _“This is not that power. It does not discriminate. It stops all. It is a double-edged sword more liable to cut its owner than its opponent. We do not need such so-called weapons.”_  
  
 _“Besides,”_ the first added, _“While the League must be overcome, those abilities are too valuable to suppress. They must serve the Light.”_  
  
There was an edge to the tone that said, while they were content enough to answer their underling’s questions, questions were now over and asking further might prove dangerous. The man knew when to quit, and nodded.  
  
“Alright. But...what should I do with the scientist, then? He’s currently upset, but everyone that worked there claims he’s brilliant. Even with his notes and schematics destroyed, it’s possible he could recreate this technology...and that’s assuming the League doesn’t get to him first. They’re probably already looking.”  
  
There was a pause, as though the seven were mulling it over. Then one of the voices spoke. _“Dispose of him. The man has already chosen to barter rather than serve the Light. We have no use for such liabilities, either.”_

The man nodded. “I’ll take care of it myself.”  
  
 _“Excellent. If that is all, you are dismissed.”_  
  
The man said nothing, and one by one the screens snapped off and quietly recoiled back into the ceiling. He stood alone in the darkness for several minutes, considering his plan of action. Then, without a word, he turned and exited the pitch-black room, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
He had a scientist to meet tonight, and it was an appointment he just couldn’t miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end!
> 
> All the other contest entries have been posted at this point. You can check them out here, so give them a look too if you haven't already!
> 
> http://fanfictionforyj.livejournal.com/


End file.
